#but maybe they could do that in winter too

[thinkinginpen]

Unexpected Company

a/n: It may not be the holidays yet but who doesn't love some good Christmas spirit in the fall? pairing: old!logan x reader w/c: 3.2k warnings: romance, hinting, love, fake dating, age gap, etc. summary: You went to Logan's house, your grumpy old neighbor, to bring him cookies and get away from the Christmas party. Little did you know this grumpy old man would take a turn.

"What is all this racket-" Logan muttered as the doorbell rang again for a third time in a row. With a groan, the old man heaved himself up from his armchair. He hadn't had a single minute's rest today, what with the kids home from school on winter break, and now some nosy neighbor was bothering him when it was starting to get late.

He reached the door and yanked it open, intending to give whoever it was a piece of his mind. Instead, he was greeted by a familiar face. You were standing on his porch, holding a plate of cookies.

He had seen you many times but always avoided you.

"What are you doing here?" he said gruffly, his voice rough and full of suspicion. He didn't want to start another fight with the neighbors.

You smiled sweetly, not at all bothered by his harsh tone. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Logan," you said, holding out the plate of cookies. "I brought you some cookies."

He didn't know what to say. Nobody had ever brought him anything before. He was a difficult old man and he knew it. He wasn't used to such kindness.

"Why?" he asked gruffly.

You chuckled softly, the sound light and sweet, like music to his ears. "Just a little neighborly gesture," you said, tilting your head to the side.

He found himself oddly captivated by the sight. You were so different from him. You were so… soft. And those eyes…

He shook himself out of it. He was too old and too grumpy for nonsense like that. "Neighborly gesture?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Don't you know I'm not the friendly type?"

You shrugged, still smiling. "I don't care," you said cheerfully. "Everybody deserves cookies on Christmas."

Logan snorted. "That's a load of Hallmark nonsense and you know it."

You rolled your eyes. "Oh please. You're not as grumpy as you pretend to be."

He felt a twinge of surprise at the unexpected tease. Nobody ever called him on his bluff.

You chuckled softly and took a step closer, peering up at him with a smile. "You know, Logan, I've seen you around the neighborhood. You're always scowling and growling at people. But I can tell. You're not really mad, you're just lonely."

He blinked, taken aback by your perceptiveness. No one ever saw through him like this before.

"I am not lonely," he said, trying to keep his cool. But the words came out more forcefully than he intended, betraying his true feelings. He felt exposed, like you were holding up a mirror to his deepest fears.

You didn't even bother to call him out on the lie. Instead, you just held up the plate of cookies again. "Have a cookie, Mr. Scrooge," you said with a small laugh.

He glowered at you, tempted to slam the door in your face. But there was something in your eyes that he couldn't ignore. It was understanding, or compassion, or maybe a bit of both.

For once, he didn't feel the urge to push you away.

He reached out and grabbed a cookie from the plate. "These better be good," he grumbled.

"Oh, they are," you said, a note of triumph in your voice. Good. You knew he couldn't resist homemade cookies.

He took a bite and found himself surprised. They were good. Really good. Like, the best cookies he had ever eaten.

"These are actually edible," he said grudgingly, trying to keep up his grumpy act.

You just laughed. "Told you."

There was a moment of silence as he finished his cookie. He could feel your eyes on him, watching him closely. As if you were studying him, like he was a curious specimen or a rare animal.

It bothered him, but not as much as it should have. There was something about the way you looked at him…

He cleared his throat, trying to break the spell. He needed to get rid of you before things got out of hand. "Alright, that's enough. Go bother someone else."

But you just laughed again. "Oh, come on, Logan. I know you don't mean that. You like me around."

Logan bristled, feeling stung by your words. He wasn't used to someone seeing through him like this.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said gruffly. "I don't need company."

But you didn't even flinch. "You're lonely," you said gently, your eyes full of compassion. "And it's okay to admit it."

He felt a pang of vulnerability. Was he really that obvious? Had he really been that lonely for so long, and no one had noticed?

He tried to push down the feeling, tried to cling to his anger. But he couldn't do it. Something about you just made him feel… vulnerable.

"I don't need your pity," he grumbled, looking away.

"It's not pity," you said, stepping closer. "It's just the truth. You need someone to talk to, someone to comfort you."

His eyes flicked to your face, watching your expression closely. You were so sincere, so open. It was like you had no idea what a danger he could be.

"You don't know what you're getting into," he said gruffly. "You don't want to get involved with me."

"Why not?" you asked, tilting your head to the side.

He had to admire your courage. Most people would have run away by now, intimidated by his gruff manner. But not you. You just smiled at him, like he was some kind of puzzle you were determined to solve.

"I'm not a good person," he said gruffly, narrowing his eyes at you. "I've done things I'm not proud of."

"Don't we all?" you asked, your smile just growing wider. "Nobody's perfect, Mr. Logan. We all make mistakes."

He grunted, frustrated that you refused to take his warning seriously. "You don't understand," he said, his voice thick with warning. "I've done things that would make your skin crawl. If you knew the real me, you'd run away screaming."

"Is that right?" you said, still smiling. He found himself almost mesmerized by the sight. How could you be so cheerful when he was trying so hard to scare you away?

He nodded once, his expression grave. "It's true."

You tilted your head, still smiling. "And yet, I'm still here."

He felt a pang of frustration. Why were you so damn stubborn? Didn't you understand the danger you were in?

"You're a fool," he grumbled. "You're not scared of me at all, are you?"

"Not even a little bit," you said, your smile growing even wider. "You think you're tough, but I can see the real you underneath all that bluster."

He felt a pang of surprise, followed by a surge of irritation. How dare you psychoanalyze him like this? Who did you think you were?

As the conversation went on, you suddenly shivered, pulling your jacket tighter around you.

Logan noticed the movement and raised an eyebrow. "You cold?" he grumbled.

You nodded, your breath coming out in a visible cloud in the cold air. You had been outside for too long.

Logan grunted, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "Why the hell didn't you say something?" he said gruffly.

You just shrugged, trying to play it off. "I didn't want to bother you."

He grunted. Typical. You were too nice for your own good.

"Come inside," he said gruffly. "You're gonna catch your death out here."

You seemed surprised. "Are you sure?"

He grunted again. "Just come in before you freeze to death, for fucks sake."

He stepped aside, letting you into his house. As you moved past him, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being drawn in by your infectious warmth.

You looked around the interior of his house with interest. It was just as you had expected – sparse and utilitarian, with few personal touches. He clearly wasn't one for decorating.

He watched you silently as you looked around, wondering what you were thinking. You seemed so out of place in his home, surrounded by his rough edges and lack of comforts.

"It's cozy," you said, trying to make conversation.

He grunted. "Don't lie. It's a dump."

He gestured to the old couch. "Sit down before you freeze. I'll make some coffee."

You walked over to the couch and sat down, feeling the cushions sag under your weight. The old fabric was worn smooth, like it had been used every day for decades.

He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you alone in the living room. You looked around, feeling a pang of pity for him. It was obvious that he didn't have guests often, if ever.

As you looked around, you noticed something strange. There was no Christmas tree.

Sure, Logan wasn't exactly a festive person, but it seemed odd that he didn't even have a small tree or a few decorations. It seemed like the kind of thing you would expect a lonely old man to have, just to pretend there was at least a little holiday spirit in the house.

You bit your lip, feeling a pang of sadness. He was lonelier than you had realized. A small Christmas tree in the corner wouldn't have made much difference, but it would have been something, at least.

You heard the sound of footsteps, and turned to see him walking back into the room with two mugs of coffee in hand.

"Here," he said gruffly, handing you one of the mugs. The coffee was black and steaming hot.

You thanked him, wrapping your hands around the mug to warm them. He sat down in the armchair across from the couch and sipped his own coffee, watching you closely.

"So," he said after a moment. "What's a pretty young thing like you doing bringing cookies to a grumpy old bastard like me?"

You smiled, feeling oddly comfortable with him despite his gruff exterior. "Just spreading some holiday cheer," you said. "Everybody deserves a smile and a cookie this time of year."

He snorted, rolling his eyes. "You're a real bleeding heart, aren't you?"

But there was no malice in his voice. If anything, he almost sounded fond.

You chuckled at his gruffness. Despite his tough exterior, you could tell he wasn't really that angry. He was just surprised by your kindness, and maybe a little uncomfortable with it.

"It's just a few cookies," you said, taking a sip of coffee. "Not a big deal."

"No, it is a big deal," he said, his tone growing more serious. "People don't just do nice things for no reason."

He looked at you closely, his gaze intense. "What's your angle, kid? What do you want from me?"

You laughed, surprised by his bluntness. "I don't want anything," you said, shaking your head. "I just wanted to be nice. It's Christmas, after all."

He grunted, still looking suspicious. "You're telling me you just wandered over here, knocked on my door, and gave me cookies because you're just that nice?"

As he kept watching you, you suddenly found yourself feeling self-conscious. Those intense eyes were so sharp and perceptive, like he could see right through you.

You felt your cheeks growing warm and you started fidgeting with the cuffs of your sleeves. You looked around the room, trying to avoid his gaze, before finally looking out the window at your own house across the street.

As you glanced out the window, you saw that there was a small crowd of people on your front porch. Most of them were laughing and talking, but one figure stood out from the rest.

Your ex-boyfriend was standing on your front porch.

You felt a pang of nausea as you saw him. He was the last person you wanted to see right now, especially on Christmas.

When Logan saw your expression he leaned forward, a note of concern creeping into his voice. "What's going on over there? Who is that?"

You took a deep breath, trying to control your emotions. "It's my ex," you said softly.

Logan frowned, his eyes narrowing. "And why is he at your house?" he asked gruffly.

You bit your lip, feeling conflicted. "My family is having a little Christmas party," you explained. "He's friends with my brother, so he's invited too. I was hoping to avoid him, but…"

He grunted, understanding what you were getting at. "He's already making a scene."

He didn't need to ask any more questions. He could see the situation clearly enough from your expression. It was written all over your face. You were clearly uncomfortable and unhappy having him here.

"What does it look like?" he said gruffly, slipping on the jacket. "I'm coming with you."

"B-but everyone knows you're the grumpy neighbor Mr. Logan…" you stuttered, "And… And my parents, what will they think if I bring you in, ten times my age. Mr. Logan I-"

He rolled his eyes as he put on his shoes. "Who cares what they think? You need someone to drive that idiot away, and I'm volunteering. Now let's go."

You bit your lip, feeling conflicted. On one hand, you knew your parents would absolutely lose it if you brought home an old man like Logan. But on the other hand, you really didn't want to spend any more time with your ex than necessary.

Finally you nodded, making up your mind. "Alright," you said. "But I hope you're ready for my family to be nosy as hell."

He grunted and stood up, adjusting his shirt. "I can handle nosy. I've been called a few things a lot worse than that in my life."

He gestured to the door. "Lead the way, kid."

As you walked outside, the streets only lit up by the street lights you spoke, "Mr. Logan what are you gonna say if they ask what you are doing with me… Are you gonna say we are-"

He grunted, thinking for a moment. He knew your family would start asking questions the moment they saw him.

"We'll say I'm your boyfriend," he said, his tone firm. "That'll shut them up real quick."

He shrugged, a hint of a smile crossing his face. "Hey, they don't know that. It'll be plenty believable. I mean, look at me."

He gestured to himself, still looking faintly amused. "I'm a catch, right?"

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. "Oh, of course. A silver fox, and probably three times my age… the perfect young woman's boyfriend," you said dryly.

He chuckled at your sarcastic tone. "Hey, I'll have you know I'm aging like a fine wine," he grumbled. "Besides, it doesn't need to be that convincing. We just need a cover story that'll get rid of your little pest problem."

As you crossed the street, you felt a flicker of nervousness. You knew that everyone would notice the two of you walking up to your house together. You could practically see the questions forming on their lips already.

But Logan walked beside you, his steps confident and unhurried. He was unbothered by the stares from your family and friends.

As you and Logan approached, there was a sudden rush of noise as everyone turned to look at you both. Several people were drinking, and a couple others were already pretty buzzed. Your parents were among them, and their eyes widened as they saw the grumpy old man walking at your side.

Your mom rushed forward, practically elbowing her way through the crowd. She came up to you with a strained smile.

"Sweetie, you told me you were just delivering cookies," she said, her eyes darting to Logan. "What is he doing here?"

You felt a sudden stab of guilt under her glare. You had told her a little white lie, saying you were only taking him some Christmas goodies. You swallowed, suddenly feeling very young and very stupid.

Logan, however, seemed unbothered by her questioning gaze. He just looked at her with a bored expression, his hands in his pockets.

"Mom, be nice he is our neighbor!"

Your mom narrowed her eyes at Logan. "Neighbor or not, I don't want some strange old man on my property without a good reason."

She looked between you and him, her expression suspicious. "And why, exactly, are you here, Logan?"

Logan raised an eyebrow, unintimidated by her questioning. "Can't a man visit his girlfriend's house on Christmas?" he said gruffly.

Your mom sputtered, completely taken aback by his blunt answer.

"Your- your girlfriend?" she repeated, her face reddening. She looked around wildly, as if looking for some hidden cameras watching her reaction.

Everyone else was watching intently, clearly interested in the conversation. Your ex boyfriend, off in the corner, looked particularly outraged.

Your face felt hot, and you knew your cheeks must be bright red right now. "Oh my God," you muttered under your breath.

Logan chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "That's right," he said gruffly. "We've been seeing each other for a few months now."

Your mom was lost for words. Everyone else was silent as well, stunned by the revelation. Even your ex boyfriend looked baffled, his expression a mixture of disbelief and horror.

"He's an old neighbor honey!"

"He's handsome, charming, and he has a stable job and income," you countered, trying to sell the charade. You felt bad lying to your mom, but this was better than dealing with your ex again.

Logan looked slightly smug at your compliment, enjoying the shocked expressions on everyone's faces.

"But he's old enough to be your father!" your mom said, still incredulous.

You could practically see the gears turning in her head as she tried to come to terms with this new development.

"Age is just a number," Logan said bluntly, unconcerned with her objections. "Besides, I look good for my age, don't I?"

He flexed his right bicep, showing off his muscular forearm.

Your mom's eyes nearly bugged out of her head as he flexed his arm, and your dad quickly stepped in before she did something drastic like collapse.

"Alright, alright," he said, laying a calming hand on her shoulder. He turned to look at Logan, a wary look on his face.

"Now, I don't have any objection to you as a man, Logan," he said carefully, choosing his words. "But I have to admit I'm a little confused about why you'd want to date my daughter. No offense to her, but there's a large age difference between you two."

Logan shrugged, unconcerned. "What can I say? I've got a thing for younger women. And she's a sweetheart, isn't she? Who could resist that smile?"

He grinned at you, and you felt a pang of gratitude. He was really selling the whole relationship thing.

Your dad looked between the two of you, clearly suspicious but not knowing what else to say. Your mom was still just gaping at the two of you.

Finally, you ex spoke up from across the room. "Excuse me," he said, looking furious, "Can I speak to you for a minute?"

You felt a pang of dread as you heard your ex's voice. You knew it was only a matter of time before he confronted you.

Reluctantly, you sighed and nodded. "Yeah, sure. We can talk."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Part 1 Part 2

[novaursa]

Bless you for opening your requests 🙇‍♀️

Could I get one, maybe following on from The Valyrian Bride, where cregan and readers children get their dragons? Maybe they get eggs in their cots, or maybe they have to travel to dragonstone as one of the children bonds with a dragon that’s already grown and unbonded, and cregan is a bag on nerves having to watch them claim the dragon, but reader is the opposite, she is composed and reassures him that they are safe?

Thank you for everything you do 💖

Valyrian Bride (dragon eggs)

- Summary: Cregan was expecting a quiet day. But nothing is ever truly quiet with his dragon-blooded children.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: The reader is an only daughter of Rhaenyra.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: 3

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

Winter had tightened its grip on Winterfell, but the great hall was alive with warmth and noise, the fire in the massive hearth burning bright and high. Cregan Stark sat at the long table with his bannermen, their voices filling the room as they discussed the usual matters—supplies for the coming winter, the training of new recruits, and the ever-present question of the safety of the northern borders.

He listened with half an ear, his thoughts drifting occasionally to his wife and children. The boy of ten and the girl of barely eight, were spirited and curious, always finding new ways to test their parents’ patience and were more trouble together than a pack of wild direwolves.

Cregan took a sip of his ale, his gaze turning toward the fire where children had spent most of the day. They had been unusually quiet, which in his experience meant they were plotting something. The problem was, with those two, ‘something’ could mean anything from sneaking a wildling pup into the kennels to hiding the cook’s ladle in the godswood.

“Lord Stark,” called Arnolf, his bannerman and old friend, pulling Cregan’s attention back to the table. “You seem distracted. More than usual, I mean.”

Cregan gave him a wry smile. “Just wondering what those two are up to. It’s too quiet.”

Arnolf laughed, shaking his head. “They’re probably just practicing their swordplay or playing a game. You worry too much, Cregan. They’re only children.”

“They’re Valyrian children,” Cregan corrected dryly. “And I’m beginning to think there’s no such thing as a harmless Valyrian game.”

As if in response, a high-pitched scream rang out from the far end of the hall, followed by another, then two more. Cregan’s heart leapt into his throat as he shot to his feet, his chair scraping back across the stone floor. His bannermen did the same, hands going to their swords.

“Seven hells,” Cregan muttered, his stomach twisting. The sound wasn’t one of pain, but panic still gripped him. “What now?”

The answer came quickly enough. His children’s voices echoed through the hall, but they weren’t screams of terror—they were shouting and laughing, the kind of noise that only came from sheer, unbridled excitement. His heart still pounding, Cregan took off toward the hearth, his bannermen trailing behind him, their faces a mix of confusion and alarm.

As he rounded the corner, Cregan skidded to a halt, his eyes widening at the sight before him.

His children were kneeling on the stone floor near the hearth, both of them grinning from ear to ear. Between them, nestled in a thick pile of blankets and surrounded by a glowing ring of embers, were two dragon eggs—large, oval, and gleaming with a strange inner light. And right there, amidst the warmth of the fire and the delighted shrieks of his children, the eggs were cracking.

“Look, Papa!” his daughter cried, hair falling around her face as she pointed eagerly at the first egg. “They’re hatching!”

Cregan blinked, his mind trying to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. He’d known they had the eggs, of course—gifts from Vaetrix’s last clutch. They’d been family heirlooms more than anything, relics of their mother’s lineage, kept cool and dormant. He had assumed they would remain that way. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that the children would try to… heat them up.

“What in the name of the Old Gods are you doing?” he asked, his voice a mix of incredulity and exasperation. He took a step forward, waving a hand at the flickering flames that danced dangerously close to the precious cargo. “You—You put them in the fire?”

His son, crouched next to his sister, looked up at him, his face flushed with excitement. “We read about it in one of Maester Kennet’s books! Dragon eggs need heat to hatch. The hottest fire we could find was here in the great hall.”

“And now they’re coming out!” his daughter added, practically bouncing in place as she watched the egg wobble and crack.

Cregan glanced around, half expecting his wife to appear and explain that this was some sort of elaborate joke. But no, it was just him, his two children, and two dragon eggs about to hatch in the middle of Winterfell’s great hall.

The second egg shuddered, a thin crack running down its length. His son leaned in closer, eyes wide with awe, and for a moment, Cregan’s heart nearly stopped. “Careful, lad!” he barked, reaching out and pulling the boy back. “Those are dragons, not pets. They’re dangerous!”

“But they’re ours,” his daughter insisted, not taking her eyes off the eggs. “And they’ll be our dragons, won’t they, Papa? Just like Mama has Vaetrix.”

Cregan opened his mouth to argue, to tell them how dragons were wild, unpredictable, and far too dangerous to be playing around with, but before he could get the words out, the first egg cracked open completely.

A small, wet dragonling tumbled out onto the blankets, its wings flapping feebly as it let out a tiny, high-pitched screech. The creature was a deep, shimmering green, its scales flecked with gold, and its eyes—bright and curious—blinked up at them as it tried to shake itself free of the last bits of shell.

His daughter’s gasp of delight was echoed by her brother’s, and both of them immediately reached out, their hands hovering just above the hatchling as if afraid to touch.

“Look, Papa!” she whispered, her voice hushed with wonder. “It’s beautiful.”

Cregan stared at the tiny creature, his emotions a tangled mess of awe, terror, and something that felt suspiciously like pride. “Aye,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It is, but—”

The second egg gave a sharp crack, splitting open with a suddenness that made even Cregan jump. Another dragonling emerged, this one a dark, smoky blue, with wings that seemed almost translucent in the firelight. It stumbled forward, letting out a tiny roar that was more of a squeak, and promptly tripped over its own claws.

His son let out a whoop of joy, scooping the clumsy hatchling into his arms without a second thought. “Papa, did you see? They’re both here! We did it!”

Cregan rubbed a hand over his face, torn between laughing and banging his head against the nearest wall. “Yes, I see,” he said, his voice strained. “But do you have any idea what this means? Dragons, here, in Winterfell?”

“They’ll be safe here,” his daughter said firmly, as if she had already thought the whole thing through. “We’ll take care of them. They’re ours.”

Cregan looked at his children, each now holding a wriggling, squirming baby dragon, their faces shining with joy and excitement. He could see it in their eyes—that fierce, unyielding sense of responsibility and love that only children could have. For them, this wasn’t a mistake or a danger—it was a miracle. Their dragons had come to life, and they were ready to embrace them with open hearts.

He let out a deep, resigned sigh, shaking his head even as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, alright. We’ll find a way to keep them. But you two—” he pointed a finger at each of them, his voice stern despite the warmth in his eyes, “—will have to take responsibility. Feeding, training, cleaning up after them. They’re not to be toys or playthings. Dragons are dangerous.”

“We promise, Papa!” they said in unison, their voices so earnest that Cregan almost believed them.

“And no more hatching dragon eggs in the hearth, understood?” he added, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think Winterfell’s ever seen this much excitement in one day.”

His daughter giggled, stroking the tiny green dragon’s head with a gentleness that belied her usual rough-and-tumble nature. “No more hearth hatchings. We promise.”

Cregan looked at his children—his wild, wonderful, dragon-blooded children—and then at the two new lives they cradled in their arms. The absurdity of it all hit him suddenly, and he let out a low, incredulous laugh. Who would have thought? Two baby dragons, born not in the hot skies of Dragonstone, but in the icy heart of Winterfell.

“Come on, then,” he said, shaking his head as he turned back to his bemused bannermen. “Let’s see what your mother has to say about this.”

As they made their way across the hall, the dragons chirping and squeaking softly, Cregan couldn’t help but marvel at the scene. Only his children could turn a quiet day into something this… extraordinary.

And though he’d never admit it out loud, a part of him was secretly thrilled. There was never a dull moment with dragons in the family, after all.

[paarksunghoon]

hyung line requestttttt

Getting high with Sunghoon but he has an oral fixation — 🦔

u get me.

***

“Open up.”

Sunghoon’s deep, raw voice pulls you out of your thoughts. Your body feels heavy as you sit on the couch, almost as if you were a magnet drawn to a surface. He’s holding a joint between his fingers as you turn your head to look at him and his eyes focus on your mouth. You do as he says.

The joint between your lips feels natural. He lights the end until smoke is visible and watches the way you inhale while keeping eye contact. When your lungs breathe in the euphoric property, you avert your head to look at the ceiling and blow the smoke away from him.

“You get hotter every time.” That makes you laugh.

“Are you turned on watching me smoke, baby?”

Sunghoon nods and takes a small drag for himself and puts his palm on your thigh. “Makes me wanna fuck you.”

“O-Oh yeah?” The smoothness of his hand slides up and down slowly like he’s trying to hold himself back. His fingertips toy with the hem of his shirt on your chest and dips his fingers until they’ve disappeared just a little.

Sunghoon didn’t get high much before meeting you. It was more of a casual thing, maybe once in a blue moon if someone else offered and if he felt good enough to do it. There was partial curiosity in marijuana but Sunghoon panicked at the thought of trying it by himself.

Meeting you happened by chance at a party two months ago. It was mildly chilly as winter turned into spring when he stood next to you in Heeseung’s basement, leaning his back against a wall with your mixed friend groups standing in a circle.

Something about your quick whips tugged at his heartstrings. He laughed at your jokes and didn’t mind it when your shoulder bumped against his when you talked. It almost felt intimate in that way. You were two strangers who met each other an hour prior and there he was, looking at your lips every chance he got.

Sunghoon doesn’t quite know how he did it, but he managed to score your number by the end of the night. You called him cute and made his ears flush. When he confided in you about wanting to get high but being afraid to do so, you told Sunghoon to be with people who make him feel safe.

He grew infatuated with you and the way you encouraged him to be more outspoken if he wanted something. You were so cool in a way he wish he was but he chalks it up to the confidence you’ve built for yourself. So carefree and lighthearted, you took life’s challenges with stride and refused to let yourself get knocked down. It was inspiring to see you be unapologetic about yourself. There wasn’t anyone in the world who could push you down because you wouldn’t let them.

Two weeks into knowing you, the two of you hooked up for the first time in the backseat of his car after a night of banter and sexual tension. He pulled over the side of the road in the dead of night and beckoned you to the backseat. Too horny to think, he gave you one chance to pass on him before pulling his dick out of his pants.

There was little foreplay because of the angle and the sheer urgency since you were in public. But that wasn’t a problem because you became extreme aroused when Sunghoon started to manhandle you with the kind of confidence he’d never shown you before. He pulled your panties off of your body and spread your legs with his strength and watched you ooze out your arousal and pushed his dry tip against you.

He let it glide up and down with rushed hips until he was dipping the tip inside. He felt so good even with just this taste. Sunghoon moans and felt your pussy clench around him when he pulled out to put a condom on. He fucked you so hard the car shook with vigor until the two of you lay together well spent, and you had wondered how you could get him to be so forward with you again.

That moment began your friends-with-benefits arrangement with him. Somehow, as he got closer to you, Sunghoon felt enough with you to get truly high for the first time.

It was cute, the way he coughed the first time smoking a joint. You kissed his cheek and told him to take a small breath and hold it in longer than he thinks he needed to. He followed your instructions and you praised him for being so good at listening.

The two of you don’t go anywhere farther than grinding when you’re both inebriated. The thrill of it all is euphoric to Sunghoon no matter if it seems unconventional. You’ve talked about it—having sex while high is on a bucket list for the two of you—and agreed that if it felt right, why not try it?

So now you sit facing Sunghoon as you watch him expertly inhale a puff of smoke and push his lips against yours. It travels into your mouth and the proximity of his lips makes you shudder. Sunghoon keeps his hand on you and pries your legs open slowly.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers as he pecks your mouth. His plump lips feel like pillows. Sunghoon drags his fingers across the hem of your panties, tracing the fabric before sliding his fingers up and down your slit. “God, you’re so wet, too.”

His soft touch tingles in a way that travels to your toes. Sunghoon comes closer to lick your neck before pressing small kisses over it. The sensation is astounding. Every nerve in your body is alert and you’ve never felt more aroused in your entire life.

“I’m so lucky to get to fuck you,” he says against your neck. “I’ve never had anyone better.”

And, well, that’s true. You knew he had a girlfriend before you but when you both started to open up about sexual history and preferences, you learned that Sunghoon’s ex girlfriend didn’t quite meet him halfway.

His confession makes you clench but your words get stuck in your throat with his sudden confession. It turns you on more than you’d like to admit. Sunghoon pulls your panties off completely and kneels on the floor until his face hovers over you.

“Can I?”

Within a fraction of a second of you nodding, Sunghoon’s sticking his tongue out and licking a fat stripe up your core. It’s astonishing the way he maintains being anywhere between dominant and desperate when he’s high. It’s like his brain can’t choose how he wants to act and so his desires come out without abandon. His typically hesitant self is replaced by someone who isn’t afraid to show you how badly he wants you.

Sunghoon lets his spit drip down his tongue until your pussy’s wet enough to glisten. He licks it all up and pushes his tongue harder against you until he feels your toes pressing against his back as you arch yourself into his mouth.

You can tell he’s into it when he allows you to suffocate him. Sunghoon doesn’t resist much when your legs close around his head. In fact, you think he might enjoy being restricted like this because his tongue pushes into you like he’s trying to memorize what you feel like against his wet muscle. In and out does he move his mouth and every pass makes your legs feel like they’re about to fall apart.

He moans into you when he feels your fingers carding through his hair and tugging on the strands whenever he pushes his tongue into you harder. Sunghoon doesnt care that his mouth and chin have become sopping wet with your arousal and his spit. He welcomes the mess, even.

Sunghoon pulls his head back just a little to see the way you look down at him. The eye contact makes you clench and he chuckles straight into your pussy, which makes your toes curl and back arch even higher from the couch beneath you.

He looks like a sex god at this angle and you’re sure some divine power from above must’ve loved you enough to give you someone as handsome and as caring as Sunghoon. His hands are so gentle on your thighs, caressing your soft skin while his tongue licks your slit like you’re his favorite treat he’s trying to savor.

Sunghoon always brings you across the finish line and it’s something you appreciate about him. He moves his tongue with precision, even if patterns he draws feel random at best. In the time he’s gotten to know you intimately, you’ve been wondering if he’s learning about your body every time he sees you naked.

He coaxes you into an orgasm when you push your hands into his. Sunghoon immediately clasps his fingers in yours and eases the pressure on your core once your release hits his tongue. He laps it up like he hasn’t had a sip of water in days and cleans you up to the best of his ability. Sunghoon’s tongue feels so soft and gentle as you come down from your orgasm but the high from the marijuana is still a lingering presence, aiding in your euphoric come down.

The two of you look at each other like you know there’s an unspoken presence between the two of you. For now, Sunghoon smiles at you in the way he does when he’s trying to figure out a way to tell you he likes you without directly saying it.

You silence him with a kiss and hope he knows you like him too.

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[the-lying-heavens]

"I Read About You in History Books"

[Bucky Barnes x fem!reader]

Summary: You've always been fascinated by history, especially by the untold stories of people forgotten in the shadow of legends. Bucky Barnes is one of those people.

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, Fluff with a dash of angst, not proofread

Word Count: 1.6k

You knew The Winter Soldier. Who didn't? Everyone knew the tales of the most feared assassin in the world. How he appears and disappears like a ghost. How he struck his victims with deadly accuracy and no one could catch him. The man behind the mask intrigued you more though. It was almost laughable but to you, The Winter Soldier was older news than James 'Bucky' Barnes.

Meeting Steve Rogers was incredible. It took every professional bone in your body not to jump up and down in excitement. I mean it was the Captain America. How were you not meant to be excited?

You didn't expect to become his friend, to watch his back and have him watch yours. You had been in so many fights besides him and, of course, asked him every question you could think of about his life, the war and especially Bucky Barnes.

Why do you want to know so much about him? He had asked once.

Only the Gods knew the answer.

You couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky Barnes, more than what was in the history books. There was never much about him in anything, always being overshadowed by Steve or the other Howling Commandos. You'd read every account, watched every documentary, pieced together the fragments of his life as if they were a puzzle begging to be solved.

You never expected to meet him. Never expected him to be more than a name in a book or a picture in a documentary. You thought that meeting Steve was miracle enough.

You were quite wrong.

~~~

"Mind if I join you?"

Bucky frowns. "In a stairwell?"

"Well, I usually come here to get some quiet, so yeah, in a stairwell."

Bucky's posture is stiff as he leans back against the cold concrete wall, his arms crossed over his chest. You stand a few steps below him, one hand resting on the metal railing, your head tilted to the side as you study him.

“Quiet, huh?” he asks, his voice a low rasp, still hesitant to engage.

“Yep,” you reply, popping the 'p' with a small grin. “It's one of the few places in this whole compound where no one’s either training, running missions, or asking me a million questions.”

He’s guarded, that much is clear, but there’s something else too. Something underneath the surface, a complexity you’ve always suspected is buried deep within James Buchanan Barnes. You aren’t just interested in The Winter Soldier. You want to know the man beneath that, the person history has barely bothered to document.

“So, what brings you up here?” you ask casually if your presence is the most natural thing in the world.

Bucky glances away for a moment, his jaw clenching. His eyes are distant, but not in the way that screams of danger. More like he’s... lost. "Just needed some space," he finally says.

"I understand that." You slide down onto one of the steps, resting your arms on your knees, looking up at him. "It gets overwhelming, doesn’t it? Always being around people, no room to just... think."

Bucky nods in agreement, his eyes flickering to you.

You decide to take a chance. "I swear this isn’t some weird interrogation or anything, but... I've read about you, in History books. Well, about the Howling Commandos. About you and Steve during the war."

His expression tightens, the walls going back up. "You don't know me—"

"I know," you say quickly, cutting him off. "I know that what’s in those books isn’t the whole story. That’s why I want to know more."

"More?" His gaze sharpens, almost suspicious. "Why?"

You shrug. "I don’t know. Maybe because history’s never the full picture. It’s just pieces, bits of what people decide to write down. I’ve always thought there had to be more to you than just 'Steve’s best friend' or 'The Winter Soldier.' And..." you press your lips together, hesitating, but continue, “...I guess I just want to know who you really are.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, the tension between you thickening with each passing second. His blue eyes are scrutinizing you, searching for something—maybe sincerity, maybe an ulterior motive. You aren’t sure.

"You think you can figure me out?" he finally says, his tone biting, though not as cold as before.

You shake your head. "No... But I think you deserve to be known. Not just as a name in a book or a legend in a file. As, well, you."

His brow furrows, and for the first time since the conversation started, he looks truly unsettled. "What if I don't even know who that is anymore?"

The pain in his voice catches you off guard. For a moment, the Winter Soldier—the assassin, the ghost—seems to fall away, leaving only a man haunted by the weight of his past. And it breaks your heart a little.

"Then maybe I can help you figure it out," you say softly.

Bucky exhales, a sound heavy with the burden of decades he hasn’t asked to carry. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any promises, but he doesn’t leave either. Instead, he slowly lowers himself to sit a few steps above you, the silence between you shifting into something more comfortable.

"Can I be completely honest?" you ask.

"Huh? Yeah?"

"I don't come here for quiet. I lock myself in my room for that. I totally stalked you in here."

Bucky scoffs. "You're probably the nicest stalker I've encountered."

You look up at him, grinning. "Thank you!"

He raises an eyebrow at you but you swear you see a small smile grace his lips.

Maybe this is the beginning of something. Maybe not. Either way, you aren’t about to let him disappear like a ghost again.

Not if you have anything to say about it.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: A Walk in the Park

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn’t end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You push through the door of the lobby and hold it open for the elder woman hunched over her walker. You patiently let her through but she doesn’t even acknowledge your deed. It’s too bad that most times you help people, you don’t even seem to notice. That’s fine. You’d feel worse to see her struggle. 

She heads for the outer door but before you can rush over to get that too, someone else does. You blanch as you recognise the man with the bristly mustache. It’s Lloyd. You haven’t seen or heard from him in the week since the sandwich shop encounter. You just assumed it was another random crossing of wires. 

The woman mutters as she passes through the door and his cheek twitches as he waits until he’s through to let go. He shakes his head and turns to you, “there ya are. Didn’t know your unit so kinda just been hanging around.” 

You blink, “you’ve been waiting on me?” 

“That lady was a grouch, huh? Not even a thanks. Telling ya, tootsie roll, you’re too sweet,” he says. That pet name is cute but a bit much. 

“Um, yeah, but she’s probably in a lot of pain. Maybe one day I’ll be in the same way and someone will hold the door for me,” you shrug. “But uh, why exactly are you waiting in my lobby?” 

“Friends stop by to say hello, don’t they?” He grins.  

“Sure, but uh...” 

“You said we’re friends so... did I misread this? Were you just being nice? The way you do, huh? Because lying isn’t very nice, tootsie.” 

You shake your head, “no, I just... I don’t know. I’m surprised. That’s all.” 

“Good surprise?” He lifts a brow. 

“Yeah, of course,” you squeak. 

“Mm, and where are you off too, besides helping little old ladies?” He challenges. 

“Just going for a walk. I like to walk through Garnet.” 

“Garnet? You mean the sh—the path down there?” He points to the wall and you nod. 

“They have pretty flowers.” 

“It’s... almost winter,” he sniffs. 

“Yeah, I know. I like it though. There’s still ducks around.” 

He nods, his eyes narrowed discerningly, “you always see the silver linings, don’t ya?” 

“I try,” you shrug. 

“Well, can I crash your walk? Could stand to stretch my legs.” 

You nod and hum, “that’s fine.” 

“Just fine?” 

“Lloyd,” you give him a look, “you’re more than welcome to walk with me.” 

You tuck your earbud case away. The left one is broken anyhow. He pulls the door open again and waves you out. 

He follows and catches up to you on the sidewalk. You walk down the pavement and breathe in the brisk air. You fix your beanie over your ears and slip your hands up your sleeves as you cross your arms. 

“Damn cold, isn’t it?” He puffs a cloud of steam into the air. 

“I can’t wait for the snow,” you say.  

Your father always loved the wintertime. You would watch the flakes drift down and build a snowman, even a tiny one if there wasn’t very much, and you’d have hot chocolate on the porch in your mittens and pajamas. And Christmas... 

You push away that thought. 

“You’re quiet? You alright?” He nudges you with his elbow. You flinch. You forgot he was there for a second. 

“I’m wonderful. How are you? How’s your ear?” 

“My ear...” he echoes. “You remember?” 

“Did you get it looked at? Does it still hurt?” 

“Yeah, it’s alright. Still a bit fuzzy on that side,” he shrugs. “It’s whatever. I’m a big boy.” 

“Right, but did a doctor say so or--” 

“You worry about me that much, tootsie?” He scoffs. 

“It’s important. You never know, could be worse than you think. And if it’s nothing at all, at least you know,” you say. You don’t want to nag him, even if you should have nagged your dad. Maybe... 

“No, I didn’t. Really, it’s not the first time I got a good blast to the ear,” he says. 

“Right,” you accept as you turn through the gate to the park. The arch is missing letters but it’s still beautiful. 

He sighs again and rubs his hands together. “God, I hate the cold.” 

“You should get gloves,” you uncross your arms and reach into your pocket, “I don’t know, mine might be too small.” 

You offer him the woolly mittens. He clicks his tongue, “that’s cute, definitely too small.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and chatters. You look at his jacket. You try to see the inside above the collar. “What are you doing?” He glances at you from the corner of his eye. 

“Is that lined?” You ask. 

“What?” 

“Your coat. Is there a lining in it? It looks thin.” 

“I’m just fine, mom, thanks,” he snips sharply. 

“Gosh, sorry, I just... I could sew a lining into it. I replaced the inserts in my boots too. It’s not that hard.” 

He furrows his brow, “it’s whatever. I spend most of the winter south. Right by the equator where it’s nice and sunny.” 

“Ooo, that sounds cool,” you say. “By the ocean?” 

“Surrounded by it,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Wow. I’ve never seen the ocean.” 

“You haven’t... tootsie, what’re ya doin’ to me? You’re lying.” 

“Nope,” you shake your head. “I’m sure one day I will. Is it pretty?” 

He looks at you and his nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath, “yeah, it’s... beautiful,” he looks ahead thoughtfully. “Guess I should pay more attention, but yeah, real blue and big and sh—stuff.” 

You bounce on your feet and stop suddenly. You hit his arm and point, “don’t scare him.” 

He nearly trips as you gesture to the little chipmunk on the broken bench. You can’t help a squee as it skitters onto the seat and glances around nervously. You squeeze Lloyd’s sleeve without thinking. 

“He’s so c-y-ute!” You say, “isn’t he?” 

He doesn’t answer right away but you’re too enamoured with the tiny critter to care. 

“Yea, super cute,” he agrees at last. 

[elronds-meleth-nin]

A Brush With...Kindness?

This idea came up in a discussion with @bigblissandlove1, so credit to you, my dear friend!! Thank you for being okay with me writing it! ILYSM! Thank you for screaming over both versions of Adar with meeee 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 Also holy shit, this was supposed to be like...2000 words and ended up as almost 12000. 💀

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Adar (RoP) x Reader

[A/N: This has smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Mentions of violence (not discussed in detail), blood, bloodplay, threats, knives, swords, Adar in the winter, both soft!Adar and stabby!Adar, interspecies sex, Uruk/Human sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), angst, much yearning, nudity, I feel like I'm forgetting something but I have no idea what because holy fuck this is almost 12000 words.

~*~

I knew his face from the moment he and his Uruks flooded into our village. Pillaging and looting where they could, murdering those who fought, the Uruks caused havoc. He strode in with them, looking as serene as the Elf I'd mistaken him for when I was a child.

How lucky I'd been that he'd chosen peace all those years ago. My father was a trader who traveled between Lindon, Eregion, and several villages inhabited by Men. Between the last of those villages and the borders of Eregion, we'd stopped to make camp for the night.

While my father set up our tent and tended to the horse, he asked me to gather some small sticks for the fire. I set off to do so, but in my quest for kindling, I ended up farther away from him than I'd intended with an armload of sticks large enough to make me stagger. Just as I'd begun to turn back, there was a small rustling from behind a bush a few feet away. I turned just in time to see a figure rising to his feet.

Tall, intimidating, covered in dark, aging armor, with scars on his face stood an Ellon. I let out a small, childish sigh of relief. I'd been afraid it might be a bear or an Orc or something fearsome, but it occurred to me that the presence of an Elf must mean that we were close to Eregion.

"You should not wander alone, little one. There are Uruks lurking in this forest," he said, and I noted that he sounded strange. Most Elves had voices that flowed like silvery musical notes, but his was raspy and low, as if he'd screamed for so long that he'd hurt his throat. Maybe he was a soldier, I'd thought. After all, they shout orders all the time.

"I'm not alone," I said lifting my chin as proudly as only a child could. "My father is not far from here."

He did not look convinced, yet still he offered me a smile.

"Perhaps, then, my lady, I could help you with your load?" He asked, and as I'd never been called 'my lady' before, I was not eager to disabuse him of the notion. He relieved me of my bundle of sticks, and together we began to walk back toward the camp my father had set up. After a few moments of comfortable quiet, I posed a question.

"What is an Uruk? I've never heard of one before. The word sounds sort of like 'Orc' if you say it too quickly..." I mused, and a small smile tugged at his lips. Vaguely, I wondered if his scars hurt him, but I did not think it polite to ask. At ten years old, my father had taught me manners enough to know that if a person wanted to talk about something like that, they should be the ones to bring it up.

"An Uruk is the correct name for an Orc," the Ellon said. "The words became...confused long ago. Not many remember their real name."

Oh. Well, that made sense.

"There are two people who know, now," I said smiling up at him, and he looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"That is kind of you, my lady, but you must not use that name around the Elves. They do not take kindly to having their mistakes paraded before them," he said, and that confused me.

"But...you are–"

The crunching steps of heavy boots in the underbrush startled me, but instead of an Uruk appearing from the trees, it was just my father.

"There you are! I told you not to go too far," he said striding up to me and wrapping me in his arms. He placed a kiss atop my head and only then did he turn his gaze upon my companion. Straightening, he glared suspiciously at my new friend. "Who are you? I've never seen Elvish armor quite like that."

His tone was less than kind, and, remembering my manners, I spoke up on my friend's behalf.

"Be nice, papa! He was helping me," I said. My new friend shifted the bundle of sticks to one arm, and placed his hand over his heart, inclining his head in a respectful bow.

"I intended her no harm, sir. There are many perils in this part of the forest and I wished to ensure she would not encounter danger," he explained. "Besides, a bundle this large was certainly more than a lady of her status should have to bear."

He offered me an exaggerated, deferential bow that drew a giggle from my lips. After a mere moment's hesitation, my father invited him to our camp to keep warm, since the woods grew quite cold at night. Looking back, it was obvious that he was incredibly patient with my childish questions as the three of us settled in to pass the night. Our evening meal stretched easily between three mouths, even though our new friend said that he did not wish to diminish our supply of food. We could not simply let him starve.

I woke in the middle of the night to low, whispered voices at the treeline. Carefully, I peeked through the flaps of my tent and saw two shadowed figures around the flickers of a small lamp. One stood tall, and the other hunched over.

With my father still slumbering soundly in his bedroll, I made a decision of which he surely would have disapproved. As quietly as I could, I slipped out, sneaking through the shadows of the trees until I could just make out the face of the taller person in the lamplight.

Our Ellon friend? What was he doing out here? Shifting slightly, I caught sight of the second person and–

I nearly tripped over myself to get back to my tent. He'd been speaking in a strange rasping, mean-sounding language to an Orc - or, an Uruk, as he'd called them.

I wasn't frightened of him, despite what I'd seen. Curiosity still reigned in my mind, but I still did not relish the thought of being caught eavesdropping. The next morning, I rose quite early, only to find that our guest was already gone.

"Don't look so distressed, love," my father called from his seat beside the fire. "He left this for you along with his apologies for leaving before you woke. He said his children needed him."

He held out a small piece of dark metal. It had clearly come from his armor. Carved within it was a set of stars, inlaid with some other tarnished metal.

"He said it was the symbol of the Noldorin Kings. He thought you might appreciate it and that it might serve to remind you of the conversation the two of you had," my father explained, though he looked a bit puzzled. "What conversation did he mean, if I may ask?"

As I looked at the small metal piece, it occurred to me that if he had not told my father, then perhaps there was a reason. My father might react poorly to the word 'Uruk' like our friend said the Elves would, simply because he worked so closely with them.

"He said it was dangerous to walk alone," I said, and though it wasn't a lie, it was not the whole truth, either. I'd never had reason to lie to my father before, and I hoped I would never need to again.

That night after we rode into Eregion and settled into our chambers, by candlelight I found the second symbol. Carved onto the back of the item he'd given me, there was what looked like a three-pronged shape. A tool perhaps? A maker's mark?

I wouldn't see that shape again until many years later when Lord Adar took our village. The armor piece which I'd turned into a necklace years before hung around my neck, almost burning beneath the bodice of my dress even as I averted my eyes from our new lord's.

When the morning came, we were all herded into a line leading to the steps of the tavern from which Adar was currently ruling over us. Those who refused to swear loyalty to him were summarily killed by the Uruks guarding us. When my own turn came, I dropped to my knees as all those before me had done.

Strangely, though, even as I looked up at him, I still couldn't find it within me to be afraid of him. Of death? Naturally, I was frightened, but I could not muster the same feeling regarding the Uruk lord. His eyes met mine, and his lips parted as if he recognized me.

An old man grasped my hair roughly, forcing my head down into a more subservient position.

"Do you swear allegiance to Adar, Lord Father of the Uruks?" He asked, but before I could answer either way, his tight grasp on my hair was suddenly released. "M-My lord?"

"She has already sworn for me," Adar rasped above me, and I tried not to look confused as he urged me to my feet. He reached toward me, and to my astonishment, his fingertips brushed against the pendant that had come loose from beneath the top of my dress. The one he'd given me years ago. The back with the three-pronged carving was visible because the chain had twisted. "She already wears my mark. You will not brand her, is that understood?"

"Yes, my lord," the grumpy old man said, but I could look nowhere save into the same green eyes I'd seen all those years before. I couldn't help but think about how beautiful they were.

"I shall see to the rest tomorrow, Waldreg. See that they're fed and have a place to sleep," Adar ordered. Grasping my elbow, the Lord Father of the Uruks led me away from the crowd. Once we were safely inside one of the ruined buildings, he clasped my upper arms and looked into my eyes. "I thought I told you it was dangerous to wander alone, my lady."

His voice was infinitely gentler than it had been before.

"I'm not alone," I whispered, "Not when I have you."

Looking at me with a mixture of disbelief and something far too soft to be on an Uruk Lord's face, he stepped closer and carefully rested his forehead against mine. The scent of smoke and metal, earth and wood oils surrounded me, and I recognized the scent, faint though it had been, from that day in the woods.

He muttered something in the low, guttural language that the Uruks used, and though I had no idea what he'd said, the sound of it sent my heart racing in my chest.

"I thought I'd never see you again," I admitted in a whisper, and he let out a slow, almost sad sigh.

"I had hoped that you would never have need to," Adar murmured in return. When he spoke again, he sounded almost resigned. "If you wish to leave, I can arrange safe passage for you."

I considered the possibility for a moment. My mother and father were living peacefully in Eregion, thanks to the kindness bestowed upon them by Lord Celebrimbor. I could certainly go there, but...was that what I wanted?

"And...if I wanted to stay?"

Pulling his head back just far enough to look into my eyes, Adar seemed as though he both was and was not surprised at my question.

"You would be allowed to do so, of course, but you must understand that this would be a hard life," he stated. "I cannot offer you any luxuries, not like those found in Elven territory. Mordor is new. We have very little. We have not even completed the construction of our own homes yet. Is that truly the life you want? Barely getting by on scraps of food, sleeping in the ruins of an old building?"

"I can bear it," I reassured him, and he seemed to consider my words as his fingertips once again traced the chain of my necklace.

"I will not make you swear your loyalty, my lady, but I would like your word that if at any point you feel as though this life is intolerable or overwhelming, you will tell me," he murmured as his eyes met mine again. "I would not see your light dimmed by such a place as this."

Gently, I laid my hands over his.

"You have my word, my lord," I murmured, and he nodded his head slowly.

"Then, welcome to Mordor, híril vuin."

--

She'd been different since the day they met. Oh, she was likely an average member of her species, but Adar had little personal experience with Humans beyond the occasional interaction. Her openness when she was a child had been endearing, especially since she hadn't thought him frightening or hideous. She'd accepted him as he was without question - even going so far as to protect him from her father's suspicion.

After she'd caught him speaking with Glûg in the middle of the night, ordering his children to leave her and her father be in Black Speech, however, Adar had thought that she'd have told her father what she'd seen...that he would be met with an arrow to the chest upon his return to their camp. Instead, she'd managed to sneak back unnoticed, and he'd taken his leave before she awakened.

Never did he think that one day as a grown woman - a lady - she would be forced to kneel at his feet. Not even with the threat of death looming over her was she afraid of him.

He'd never wanted her fear. When she was a child, he'd savored her curiosity, and now, as an adult, he found that he relished her gentleness and her acceptance. She'd been courteous to all of his children whom she'd encountered, even if such behavior earned scorn from the other Humans in their encampment. She never cowered. She never diminished herself to fit into the dull little boxes that the others of her species so consistently tried to force upon her. She was unique.

And Adar found himself growing ever more intrigued by her.

The winter wind whipped clothing, biting the skin and sinking bone-deep. Like most discomfort, Adar was used to it. He knew every survival method - one did not live for thousands of years without picking up a few helpful practices. His children had followed his example, but it was a bit harder for the Humans among them to find comfort.

Truly, though, the only one he cared about was his lady...his brave, determined lady. He remembered her looking up at him the better part of a year ago when she was forced to the ground before him. Curiosity and recognition was as obvious in her expression as the points on an Elf's ears.

Even after he'd taken their village, she hadn't hated him. She hadn't denied having sworn for him, even though that had been a lie he concocted to keep her safe and unblemished.

Seeing that remnant of his armor hanging from a chain around her neck had inspired more pride and awe in him than he'd felt in an Age. Adar had assumed that even if her father had given it to her, it was so small and insignificant that she wouldn't have bothered to keep track of it. But for her to have turned it into a necklace... The thought still sparked a wave of warmth in the Uruk's heart.

Had their encounter truly been that memorable to her?

As the bitter winter held the camp in its grip, residents and all, Adar walked amongst his children and sworn Human villagers alike, noting those things which were needed most. He turned a corner between rows of tents and half-built houses and paused at the sight of his lady and Glûg discussing the babe in the Uruk's arms. After a few moments, his lady let out a small laugh, and Glûg let out a rasping chuckle before departing with a small bow.

Before he could behave as if he'd been doing anything - anything at all - besides watching them, she turned and Adar's eyes met hers. Approaching without hesitation, she curtsied and greeted him with her customary 'good day, my lord.'

Dropping into his own low bow, Adar offered her his arm.

"Walk with me, if you would, my lady," he murmured, and she looped her arm with his. "How would you characterize the mood amongst your people here?"

They walked a few steps, she considering he answer, and he marveling at how easily they fit together. Having her at his side felt natural, as if that was where she was always meant to be.

"They are under strain, because of the winter temperatures. Perhaps they are a bit more frightened than usual, but nothing too serious," she replied. "They seem to have settled into their new routine along with your children quite well, considering the circumstances."

"And what of your own circumstances? What can I do to ease your burden?" He asked as they reached the door of her shelter.

"I can think of nothing, my lord." Adar did not believe that, but he did not contradict her, choosing instead to accept her invitation inside.

"Allow me at least," he said as he stepped inside, "to check your supplies. Firewood and the like."

"Of course," she murmured, waving him inside. One of the other ladies who shared her living space had already lit a fire in grate, and as soon as they saw Lord Adar walk inside, they quickly found other places to be.

Pretending to take a cursory view around the room, Adar slyly watched his lady move around, tidying up, even though the messes had clearly been created by the others. That he did not like, but that was a problem for a later date.

"Are you certain there is nothing I can do to improve your situation?" He asked, and she flashed him a smile bright enough to make his heart skip a beat.

"Nothing, whatsoever. I'm quite comfortable here," she said walking to stand with him beside the fire. He took a long, selfish moment to indulge his desire to study her face. When his desire to reach out and touch her grew so strong that he felt he might snap, he drew and released a deep breath.

"Thank you for your indulgence, my lady. I shall leave you in peace."

Adar gave her a small bow before making his way toward the door.

"Oh, wait! Please, my lord," she called, and he turned to face her. She pulled a length of cloth from a bundle, hurrying over to him.

A familiar sense of dread curled in his abdomen. He'd been betrayed before in moments of weakness - seeing her this evening was certainly a weakness. The cloth would make a suitable garrote for a person of her size to use. Steeling himself as she approached, he realized that, though he wouldn't be surprised, her betrayal would hurt more than any other had.

He met her eyes with his as she stood on the tips of her toes to wrap the cloth around his neck...but the constriction he'd been expecting never came. Instead, she tied it carefully, tucking the ends into his armor so they wouldn't flap around in the wind.

Adar's gauntlet-covered fist relaxed as his defensiveness was replaced with confusion. He was certain that he must look as utterly befuddled as he felt, but the little smile that settled upon her lips as she examined her handiwork stole his breath.

"There. That should keep you a little warmer, at least. We cannot have the Lord of Mordor freezing, now can we?" She asked when her fingers finally fell away from the chestplate of his armor. Adar found speech difficult for a long moment. She cared for his comfort?

How was one supposed to tell someone that they'd expected death's shadow only to find kindness instead? How could he possibly explain to someone like her that at the sight of a simple makeshift scarf, he'd coiled himself as tightly as a warrior preparing to be struck without a shield or sword to defend himself? She was so considerate that she would blame herself for unsettling him, he had no doubt.

No, to say nothing would be better. Perhaps...perhaps later.

Lifting her hands gently in his own, he laid soft kisses upon her knuckles. He dared not look away. Not now. This moment was crucial - whether for just him or for them both, he knew not.

"Thank you, dear lady," he breathed, and as his eyes searched hers, he saw what he normally did in her: warmth. However, this time he saw more. There was warmth, yes, but there was also gentleness, protectiveness, and a sort of satisfaction about him not tearing the scarf from his throat - he would never do such a thing. Not when it was from her.

When he finally stepped outside once more, the wind was unable to sink its frozen teeth into his neck. The fabric, worn and discolored with age, was soft, caressing his scarred skin just as he imagined her fingers would if she ever deigned to lower herself and take him as her lover.

Her generosity made him only that much more determined to find some way to make life easier for her. For nearly a week, he was kept too busy to give the matter any serious consideration, but he did have an idea.

While she was occupied, Adar slipped into her shelter. He wished to find a way to repay her for her kindness, thus his goal was to find one of her unfulfilled needs and provide for her. He was already able to ensure that she received enough food and water, and she deserved more than he could ever give her, but he was willing to try.

After a few moments of searching, he noticed the blanket in her little sleeping area. It was thin, full of holes, and practically falling apart. It was the only one he could see.

His heart clenched in his chest. She must be nearly frozen during the night, yet she had still seen fit to give him her scarf? The growing dampness of tears blurred his vision, but he blinked them away. How had she made it through the winter?

At least he could fix this for her.

Picking up the tattered blanket, he strode across the camp to find a replacement. Laying it atop a pile with other bits of cloth that needed to be repurposed, he found a stack of extra blankets. He'd already ensured that all of his children had enough to keep them warm, so one extra would not be missed.

He hastened back to her shelter, closing the door nearly silently behind him, but he quickly realized that he was not alone.

"My lord?" She called from her place beside the cold hearth. She was trying to light a fire with trembling hands. Walking over to her, Adar tucked the blanket beneath his arm and gently coaxed the flint and steel from her cold fingers.

Kneeling briefly, he struck the flint and steel once, twice, and carefully encouraged the flame to grow until a warm glow illuminated the room. When he stood again, he grasped her hands and rubbed them between his palms. He would not be content to leave her until he was certain that she would not freeze in the night.

She looked up at him in wordless wonder, and he knew for certain that his own expression had to be similar.

"Thank you, my lord," she said in barely a whisper, and in reply, he unfolded the blanket he'd brought. Though it was not nearly as soft as someone like her deserved, he knew it would hold the heat much better than her old one. Adar draped it around her shoulders, and, sweet trusting thing that she was, she made no protest about his proximity, nor did she flinch when the backs of his knuckles caressed her cheek.

She looked from him, to the blanket, and back again. Without warning, she sprang forward, wrapping her arms around his middle, but where he usually expected the bite of a dagger after such an impact, he found only comfort. He realized that she...was embracing him.

He looked down at her, only to find his nose now buried in her hair. Her scent! He'd smelled it before, but to have her this close...it was intoxicating. Carefully bracing his hands on her waist, he leaned down a little farther. The tip of his nose brushed against her warm neck, and he could almost smell her pulse racing beneath her skin.

His nose must've been cold, for that small movement was enough to startle her into leaping back. His fëa, dark and fractured as it was, wept at the loss of her, even though she'd only been in contact with him for a moment.

It had been so long since he'd been held like that.

Alarm settled into her expression and she began stammering apologies. Her new blanket slipped from one shoulder, and without a word, Adar stepped toward her and pulled it back into place.

Her voice dropped away as she realized what he was doing. His hands laid lightly upon her shoulders, sliding slowly upward until he was able to cup cup her cheeks carefully between his scarred fingers. Her eyes, now wide with wonder rather than fear, looked up at him.

"You have done nothing which warrants an apology, my lady," Adar murmured giving her small smile. She was so beautiful, so fragile compared to him. He would risk no injury coming to her. Not even the discomfort of the abating cold; slowly, their breaths became less visible as the fire grew in the hearth. "Why did you not tell me about the state of your blanket?"

"I did not wish to trouble you, my lord," she answered sheepishly. "I had already requested a replacement from the head of the Men in our section, but I was told I'd have to speak with Waldreg. Given my previous encounters with him, I...decided that the cold was preferable."

Disquiet twisted within him. Waldreg was distasteful enough without having caused his lady trouble. He was quite certain he'd tear the little worm of a Man limb from limb with a grin on his lips if he dared harm his lady.

Adar would have to speak with him about that.

"Has he mistreated you?" He tried to keep his tone as steady as possible, but a slight edge still managed to creep in.

"He expressed a few less than polite sentiments, but no more. It is not a crime for him to dislike me, my lord," she said, but her attempt to calm his ire only made him angrier on her behalf. Would she not express her anger even at someone as wretched and cruel as Waldreg?

"In future, come directly to me. You need not be afraid. I would be pleased to assist you, my lady," he promised, and his heart stuttered as she nodded her head.

As soon as he left her shelter, he sought Waldreg. The miserable little rat had much to answer for.

--

As the winter winds began to wane, I found myself increasingly glad of Lord Adar's kindness. Not shivering through the night was a pleasant change. I'd thought that after our conversation he seemed rather tense, but thus far I had seen no results.

However, as I returned from harvesting a small bunch of mushrooms for the soup that night, a vicelike grip clamped around my arm, tugging me off balance and dragging me into the small, dark alleyway between two repurposed buildings.

A hand covered my mouth just as a knifepoint pressed cold and unyielding against my racing pulse.

"You vicious little bitch," a familiar voice snarled against my ear. "What lies did you tell him? How did you make him hate me?"

I whimpered in fear but dared not move for fear of the sharp steel at my throat.

"'You will not treat my children or those pledged to me with disrespect,' he said. He's had me shoveling shit in the kennels for weeks, and word around camp is that he only came to me after speaking with you!" Waldreg sounded furious, and, indeed, I could detect the lingering scent of the wargs' leavings clinging to my attacker and his clothing. The more agitated he grew, the more his hands shook. Pain pricked my skin, and a hot red tear trickled down my neck staining the neckline of my dress. "What'd you do? Lift your skirt for him? Whisper in those ragged little ears of his? Give me one good reason I shouldn't gut you here and feed you to the wargs."

I began struggling in earnest, but his anger kept his grip tight. Still his hand covered my mouth, preventing any attempts at speech. A cruel laugh trickled across my ears, and he dragged his knife downwards until it rested directly above my heart.

"I thought not." I tried to cringe away, but that accomplished nothing save fueling the cruel old bastard's amusement as tears rolled down my cheeks. "Say goodnight!"

Instead of the bite of a blade, however, I was abruptly released. A gurgling sound came from behind me, and when I turned, I saw Lord Adar's gauntlet-covered hand lifting Waldreg off the ground by his throat. The cold glare on the Uruk's face revealed not a single mite of mercy for the Man thrashing in his grasp.

"My lady, go inside. I will join you in a moment," Adar called, and after a single shocked blink, I rushed off to do as he'd ordered. My basket lay in the mud, entirely forgotten amongst the chaos. A small crowd of Uruks had gathered around to witness Waldreg's demise and jeer at him, but I couldn't stay.

As terrible as he was, I didn't want to. Trembling, I closed the door after myself and stumbled toward my sleeping space. Quickly wrapping the blanket Adar had given me around my shoulders, I tried to steady my breathing instead of listening to the commotion outside.

I had no idea how long I'd been sitting there when the crowd fell silent and the door finally opened. Terrified that Waldreg had somehow survived and was coming to seek his revenge, I backed into the corner beside the hearth and tried to stay as small as possible.

I had no weapons with which to fight. Hiding would be my only chance to survive, especially if Adar had not been able to stop him.

--

"My lady?" Adar's voice called gently into the space, though he saw no sign of her. He spotted a small movement from the far side of the hearth. Why was she hiding? Her eyes were wide and fearful, even as he approached.

Suddenly her assertion about Waldreg expressing 'a few less than polite sentiments, but no more' felt grossly incorrect. If she was this frightened, he must've threatened her.

Adar hoped that she heard him screaming his apologies before his death.

Or...could it be that he'd finally managed to frighten her with his cruelty? That thought sent a bolt of icy dread through him.

Dropping silently to his knees beside her, he unclipped his gauntlet and dropped it beside him. He wouldn't dare touch her while wearing it after it had touched that scum, not without cleaning it first. He offered her his hand, afterwards, and she accepted it without hesitation.

She needed no coaxing to come to him, shuffling over and resting before him on her knees with her blanket still around her shoulders.

"You need not fear, my lady. He will haunt your steps no more," he murmured, and the relieved little sniffle that escaped her had Adar moving closer and gently brushing her tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

His skin was rough, but he was careful. He didn't want to hurt her, or for her to fear him. She had every right to after she'd seen him lifting Waldreg off the ground in the midst of his rage. He certainly would not blame her, but he did not want that. If ever she shrank away from him as she'd tried to do from that contemptible worm earlier, he thought his heart may shatter irreparably.

So, with the most soothing tone he could muster - one he'd not used in over an Age - he placed a gentle kiss upon her brow and spoke.

"You are safe with me, híril vuin. None shall raise a hand to you again." Carefully, he pulled the edge of the blanket away just far enough to see the small trail of dried blood from where she'd been cut. Regret was as foul upon his tongue as bile.

He should have found them sooner. Moving away only long enough to fetch a pitcher of water and a cloth, Adar sat close to her upon his return. He began to wipe her skin clean in slow, careful strokes, murmuring quiet, earnest praise for how brave she'd been and for trusting him to help her.

She rested her cheek upon his shoulder as he set the cloth aside, prompting him instinctively to wrap his arms around her and brace his chin atop her head.

"Thank you, my lord," she breathed, and he was acutely aware of his own heart racing in his chest. Could she hear its rhythm even with the chestplate of his armor in the way?

As he began to tell her that he'd done no more than his duty, the door to her shelter opened, revealing the three other ladies who shared the small space with her. Adar grated at the interruption, despite their low curtsies as soon as they caught sight of him holding his lady in his arms.

"Sleep elsewhere tonight," he ordered them, and once they'd departed, he let out a tense breath. Speaking then to his lady, he softened his tone once more. "Tomorrow, I shall have you moved to chambers befitting one of your station."

She blinked beautifully up at him, dampness clinging to her lashes like dewdrops in the early morn.

"'My station,' my lord?"

A slow smile stretched his lips.

"Indeed. If you are to serve at the right hand of the Lord of Mordor, you cannot be seen huddling in the corner of a ruined shack."

Her eyes went wide, and her lips parted in a near-silent gasp.

"A-At your right hand?"

He nodded his head in confirmation.

"Assuming that such a thought appeals to you, of course," he said, but the smile that lit up her face told him all that he needed to know about her enthusiasm.

--

The next morning, I awoke wrapped in Lord Adar's arms and the blanket he'd given me. I should've felt embarrassment, but I could muster no more than a groggy sense that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

As soon as we managed to peel ourselves from the ground, we gathered my meager possessions, and Adar led me to the tavern. He had ruled from there since day one, but I hadn't been aware until that moment that he'd been living there as well. I supposed that his choice made sense. The upper level was where the owner used to live, having the benefit of a bedroom and a small bathing room complete with a claw-foot tub.

"Unless you object, we shall be sharing the bedroom," he explained as we climbed the creaky wooden staircase. "I'm afraid that there was little more than a musty mattress here to begin with, so I'll have a second bedroll brought up today. If there is anything you require once you have settled in, please do not hesitate to tell me."

"Thank you, my lord," I replied, and as I set myself up on one side of the room directly across from his own sleeping area, one of his children called him away to handle a conflict on the other side of the camp.

Late that night, I walked into the small communal area where Lord Adar sat by the fire, gazing into its depths as if it held the answers to all of his questions. Not wishing to disturb his thoughts, I began to move away, but a quiet call of my name in that deliciously raspy voice of his froze me in place.

"Is everything to your satisfaction, my lady?" He called, and I turned to find his gaze already fixed on me.

"Yes, my lord," I murmured, "thank you for allowing me to stay here."

"The pleasure is mine. Come, warm yourself by the fire," he offered, and I dropped to my knees on the furs beside him. We sat in companionable silence for a while with only the crackling of the fire in the grate reaching our ears. "Something troubles you, does it not?"

I nodded my head and he tilted his head beside me.

"Tell me." Despite his soft tone, the command made me bite my lip.

"I...My lord, given the new position with which you have honored me, I believe it..." I stumbled over the words, eventually taking a deep breath to compose myself. "Would it not be inappropriate for me to continue in this particular role without having sworn my loyalty to you?"

The question came out in a breathless rush, but Adar either did not notice over the hissing of the fire or he was too polite to comment upon it.

"So far as all the others are concerned, you did so before we ever took your village." His eyes skimmed the length of my face as he spoke. "As you will recall, I promised you that I would not force you to do so."

"And you have kept to your word," I began. "I have not felt coerced. I offer my loyalty to you freely."

Adar sat up straighter and drew in a sharp breath.

"You only need do so if you truly wish for us to be bound," he said placing his hand softly atop mine where it rested amongst the furs. His eyes searched mine as if trying to determine whether I was serious.

"I'm certain, my lord," I said, and he, apparently finding what he was looking for, gave a solemn nod of his head.

"Very well. As with your kin, Black Speech is not a language known to you, thus I will not require your vow in that tongue," he murmured, and I couldn't stop the question that fell from my lips.

"Would it be possible to learn at some point?"

Adar smiled, a mix of pride and surprise playing across his features in the glowing, flickering light of the fire.

"I shall teach you personally, híril vuin," he promised, and his expression became more serious. "Have you ever sworn loyalty to another?"

"No, my lord."

"Do you recall the words being spoken during the oaths of fealty given by your people?"

"Yes, my lord." I bowed my head, intending to show my respect in that manner, but warm, gentle fingers grasped my chin and lifted my head back up. Adar's gaze met my own, and unless the firelight was deceiving me, I saw a soft sort of affection swimming in his eyes as he looked at me.

"Before all else, I wish you to swear that you will never bow to me unless I explicitly give you the order to do so," he rasped as his thumb brushed over my lower lip.

"I swear it, my lord. I will not bow to you unless you give me the order to do so." Having extracted that promise, he seemed satisfied to allow me to continue as I had been. His fingers fell away from my chin only to grasp my own and lay them atop his chest where beneath his heart lay beating. "I hereby swear my allegiance to you, Adar, Lord-Father of the Uruks, founder of the land of Mordor...and protector of mortal children silly enough to wander the forest alone. This I pledge from until the last breath leaves my body."

Adar listened with something akin to wonder in his eyes, and when I finished, his eyes strayed down to my lips. But...something seemed off.

"Is...something amiss, my lord? I could always use different words, if you prefer...?"

He shook his head quietly.

"There was no fault in your diction."

"Then...what troubles you?" I asked, unconsciously repeating his own words from earlier. He shifted before me, as if he was bothered by what he was about to say. Regretful, perhaps?

"An oath means little on its own," Adar murmured unsheathing a small knife that he'd apparently concealed upon his person. "Only blood can bind."

Whose blood did he mean? Did he want me to use it on myself? Did he wish to use it on me? Or did he want me to use it on us both?

An idea struck me, and I grasped my necklace in the palm of my left hand. Carefully, I set his knife aside, guiding his gauntlet-covered hand over mine. Looking into his eyes, I felt the unyielding metal dig into the soft skin of my hand. Without warning, I squeezed his hand, which in turn forced the sharp, ancient metal deep enough into my skin to draw blood. As comprehension dawned in his eyes, his pupils dilated, and something resembling hunger turned his gaze into a blazing flame boring into me.

His hand released mine long enough for the pendant to fall from my grasp, and when he turned my palm upwards, twin gashes welled with blood. Swallowing heavily, Adar lifted my hand, and as his lips met crimson, his eyes sought mine.

A gasp tumbled from my throat as his tongue lapped slowly at my skin, just barely grazing the inner edges of the two weeping cuts. It stung, of course, but the pain combined with such a ravenous stare from the Uruk lord sent a wave of heat rushing between my legs.

A breathy, wanton whimper escaped me, and in a blink, I found myself on my back atop the furs with my lord straddling my hips. He pressed my bleeding palm against his cheek, and, bracing his free hand on the floor beside my head, Adar placed a line of fiery kisses along the column of my throat from hollow to chin with his blood-drenched lips.

I'd wanted him to look at me like this, to touch me and desire me like this, from the moment we were reunited, and now that he was, it was as though my very soul had been lit aflame. I wanted everything he wished to give me, and then some.

Before his mouth had the chance to claim mine, however, there was a rough knock on the door. Adar pulled back a few inches, and we stared into each other's eyes, panting together as reality sank back in and a second knock sounded.

"I think you ought to retire for the night, my lady," he rasped laying a final kiss upon my palm before getting to his feet. My blood was a dark red streak upon his face, but he seemed not to care. He called for whoever was at the door to wait a moment, taking the time to help me to my feet and bidding me goodnight before seeing to our caller. His lips were still the deep red shade of the life flowing through my mortal veins.

I hurried up the stairs to our shared sleeping space before I could see who'd interrupted us. With a quick glance into the cracked fragment of a mirror stowed in the corner of the room, I saw a sloppy, red trail where Adar's lips had been.

I didn't bother to clean it off before I crawled into my bedroll, choosing instead to slip my fingers beneath my smallclothes as I recalled the feeling of him doing as he wished with me. With a broken, muffled whine of his name against my blanket, I found completion, but a part of me wondered how much more satisfying it would have been had his fingers been in place of mine.

--

The next fortnight felt as though it was a specialized form of torture. Adar seemed to be called away by a never-ending series of problems that required solutions. Often his day began earlier than I awoke and ended long after I'd retired to bed. Ensuring I'd completed every task he'd left for me was the least I could do considering how busy his own position kept him.

Occasionally, we did still manage to sneak a meal or a short conversation with one another, but we had yet to discuss what had happened the night I pledged myself to him. Almost every night, the memory of the hunger in his eyes drove me to desperation, haunting my dreams and forcing me to muffle my cries as I tended to my own burning desire.

One of the few times he returned before I fell asleep, I'd just whimpered his name into my pillow. As he ascended the staircase, I heard his footsteps, and I tried to muffle my shame as it was too late to stop entirely. The fear of discovery lanced through me as I heard he approached the door. I tried to steady my breathing, and hoped that in the low lighting, he would not notice how disheveled I looked.

Either I was successful, or he was in a sadistic mood, because he sidled over to his own bedroll and began stripping down. I'd seen him without the armor before, but when he shucked off his upper garments, the sight of his scarred, toned torso was enough to make me bite my tongue to stifle a gasp.

The outline of his masculinity in his trousers as he laid his clothing in a neat pile sent a fresh wave of wetness soaking my inner thighs. Oh, how was I meant to sleep after seeing...that?

Adar laid down, and just when I thought he'd fallen asleep, his voice broke through the silence.

"Sweet dreams, my lady." I could hear the teasing smile in his voice.

Oh. My cheeks burned at the realization that he'd likely heard me.

"...Good night, my lord," I murmured, hating how shaky I sounded.

--

Spring changed very few things in Mordor, save the temperatures, yet with each passing day, Adar's lady seemed to smile just a little wider.

He wanted to give her more reasons to do so, however. It was not enough that they had been living in close quarters since that night in her shelter. It was not enough that he'd made her smile and laugh before. Adar needed to do it again.

But more than that, he needed to hear those things which it was not at all civilized to consider. It was not enough that he had tasted her blood and her skin and her racing pulse. He'd heard her make beautiful, pleasure-filled sounds when she thought he was out of earshot or asleep. But it was never enough. He needed to hear her moan his name, to see her arch her back beneath him in the throes of ecstasy. He needed her.

Teasing her had been as much a torture for him as it likely was for her. Adar had become addicted to pain in one form or another over the millennia, and the mental strain of denying himself the pleasure of her touch was not unfamiliar, but it was forcing him to a breaking point, nonetheless. He knew that he would likely snap as he had when she'd sworn him her loyalty. That rush had been like a dam releasing an unstoppable flood, his hunger turning him into a ravenous beast.

She hadn't minded, as he thought she might. She'd enjoyed it. The sight of her lying beneath him panting as her blood practically dripped from his lips made him achingly hard each time he dwelled upon the memory for too long.

Still, she deserved better. Better than him, better than a moment of animalistic need. He found himself wondering about how best to give her all of himself.

Adar supposed that was how he'd ended up in the doorway of the small bathing room. The claw-footed tub was filled with steaming water as he'd ordered, and relaxing within it was his lady. She'd deserved a moment of peace after having completed every single task he'd given her with such dedication. It was a small reward, hardly as much as she deserved, but at the moment, it was all he could give.

He tried not to allow his gaze to drop beneath the water's surface, but his restraint was weak after the last two weeks of self-imposed denial. Truly, he intended merely to check that she was well, but the temptation of seeing her soft skin dripping with hot water was too great. The Lord of Mordor lingered in the doorway just long enough to feel his lower garments grow tight, and for her eyes to meet his as his lust clawed at his restraint.

As a moth drawn to a flame, he found himself walking slowly into the room, summoned by her curious gaze. The hot water reached her collarbones, and Adar felt the urge rising within him to claim her.

He knelt beside the tub, his face mere inches from her own, and removed his armor, gauntlet and all. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and dipped a washcloth into the hot water. The back of his hand brushed against the swell of her breast, and they both let out quiet gasps.

Still, Adar refused to look down into the depths of the sage blossom oil scented water. Wringing the washcloth out until it was just wet enough him to clean his face, he began to do so, only for his lady to take it from his hands. With her breasts pressed up against the side of the tub, her soft, gentle fingers held his head in place as she gently wiped away the grime.

Without a word, he turned his head and kissed her palm where twin scars were already forming. Adar would've preferred that she spill his own blood - that was what he'd originally intended - but since she'd chosen that pain, the least he could do was show the proper amount of reverence for her actions.

"Is there anything you need, Adar?" Her voice was shaky and breathless as it so often was when he caught her off-guard.

"No. This night is for you. Relax as long as you wish," he murmured, but as he stood to leave her in peace, he noted that she tried valiantly to hide her disappointment. Without turning back - if he did, he might do something impulsive - he called over his shoulder, "Patience, my lady, and you shall have all that you desire."

His hardness did not abate until long after they'd settled into their bedrolls and her breathing had evened out in the serenity of sleep.

Adar could not wait much longer. Her sweetness was as a siren's call to him.

Thus, his plan began to form. Once the spring was fully upon them, he approached her as he often did for conversation.

"My lady, I wonder if you might spare me a moment of your time?" He asked, and she smiled joyfully up at him - truly, that should not have made his heart stutter the way it did.

"Of course, my lord. You may have as much of my time as you desire," she replied, and oh, she had no idea what she was offering!

"Do you enjoy riding horses?"

She tilted her head curiously, but the way her smile widened had him mentally congratulating himself for selecting this particular tactic.

"I do, though, it has been quite some time since I've had the opportunity."

"Come," he urged offering her his hand. She didn't hesitate to take it. The feeling of her touch would be seared into his mind for as long as he lived. Drawing her close, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "I intend to steal you away."

Her lips parted in surprise, and just as he was about to apologize for his forthrightness, she squeezed his fingers in hers.

"I could not hope to be stolen by any more worthy." His breath hitched in his chest, and he tamped down the temptation to skip his plan entirely and take her atop his own sleeping furs. No. He'd been alive since before the waking of the world. He could wait a little longer.

"Then, maybe I should play the part...?" Adar suggested with a mischievous smirk. Before she could ask what he meant, he lifted her by the waist, tossed her over his shoulder - an action which tugged a surprised shriek from her lips - and carried her to his horse that way.

"My lord!"

"My lady!" He called back in answer as he felt her gentle, mortal hands lay across the back of his armor. Surely she knew he would never drop her?

Soon, he placed her atop his mount, and she giggled breathlessly at the situation. Her mussed hair and bright eyes lit a spark within his heart, and lower, not that he would admit it to any save her. Swinging up easily, he settled in behind her, grasping the horse's reins in one hand and bracing the other over the softness of her diaphragm. As close as they were, he was in the perfect position to whisper in her ear.

"Fear not, my lady," he breathed, "you shan't fall."

One of her hands covered his, and he urged their horse forward. For nearly two hours they rode, crossing from ashen, desolate terrain into the gentle rolling grasses of the land beyond Mordor's fiery shadow.

The rhythmic roll of her hips against his became almost hypnotic. The Lord of Mordor he might be, but his restraint was still utterly devastated by her. They dismounted when they reached a meadow peppered with small saplings.

Tying their horse's reins to a sturdy one, Adar offered his lady his hand. The sun was just beginning to glow a gentle orange. It would set soon, and he greatly desired to see his lady bathed in starlight.

"It is no secret that I favor you, my lady," Adar began as they wandered leisurely amongst the blooming flowers, and that was the closest he'd ever come to an admission...to a confession of that nature. "Even the Uruks farthest from the center of our camp know that I...that you are under my protection."

"Indeed. I would say that is true," she agreed, clearly not certain at what point he was driving with his rambling. "I am honored beyond words to have your favor and protection, my lord–"

"Adar. Here - anywhere away from prying eyes and unwelcome ears - you may call me Adar," he corrected gently, and her fingers squeezed his in gratitude. "I brought you here today, because I wish to ask for your counsel."

"You shall always have it, Adar," she assured, "though, I am not certain what advice I could provide that would be wiser than your own. I have very little experience with war and strategy."

He stopped walking and turned to face her - a mistake, because she was almost ethereally encompassed by the warmth of the sunset. He swallowed heavily to recover his voice.

"It is not war about which I require your thoughts," he began, bringing her hand to his ruined lips. "I have lived in shadow for so long, yet recently I have found myself prey to a feeling which I have not experienced in many Ages."

She tilted her head curiously.

"What might that be?"

Adar reached gently toward her with his free hand, cupping her cheek.

"Love," he rasped, looking into her eyes, hoping she would catch the meaning within his words. Admitting that a horrid creature like him had fallen head over heels for a beautiful being like her was tantamount to sacrilege. Yet...in several instances, he believed that he'd seen his own affection reflected in her eyes. Indeed, the moans he'd heard from her would seem to indicate that she desired him.

But it was too much to hope that she could love him. He was certain she desired him, but...love? Could a Human woman truly love an Uruk when the rest of her kind looked down on them in scorn and disgust? Had he been a fool to bring her here?

She stepped closer to him, looking up into his eyes–

Her expression stole his breath. He had not hung the stars in the sky, nor had he wrought treasures like the Silmarils. He had not created even a single thing of beauty. All he'd done was try to give his children a home.

And yet...she looked at him as though he was more worthy of praise than the most virtuous of kings, the most honorable of knights, and the most devoted of husbands. Could it be possible?

Could she...?

"I am afraid that I have little experience with love, Adar, but I will help if I can." As afraid as he might be of losing her, he must speak now or lose her forever.

"In your opinion, who is worthy of love?" He asked, and she let out a small huff of laughter, as if the question was a foolish one. "Have I said something amusing?"

"A bit," she admitted, but she was quick to place her free hand over his heart, "but not in the way you might think. Everyone is worthy of love, even - and, perhaps, most especially - the Lord-Father of the Uruks."

Was he truly so transparent that she could see his fears so easily? Or had she managed to worm her way so far into his heart without his knowledge that it was already a bosom companion to her own?

"...And you have it." His eyes snapped back up to hers - when had he looked away? His hunger and adoration for her rose up in a great wave, consuming him from the inside as he wove his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and drew her into a passionate kiss.

He'd dreamed of having her pressed up against him, of drinking her pleasure from her lips.

She moaned into Adar's mouth, and he was struck by the realization that she was so much better than any phantom images that his imagination could conjure. He dragged his lips and teeth to the corner of her jaw, and spoke in a hoarse, rasping whisper.

"I need you as I need air, meleth-nin." He grasped her waist as her arms drew him ever closer. "You steal my breath, yet without you I cannot breathe. Have mercy....Have mercy upon your most devoted servant..."

As the orange sky bled pink, his lips trailed down her neck, savoring those places which had driven him to the edge of madness when he sampled her before the fire. His name escaped her lips on the back of a desperate whine.

"What do you need? Tell me," Adar breathed, and she tilted her head to offer him more of her neck.

"Take me, touch me, please! I'll be good, so good, only for you," she begged, and the sound went straight to the stiffening length between his legs. He would love nothing more than to have her beg for him all night, but this time she would have no need to. Tonight, the beginning of their time as one, he would fulfill her every desire with a minimum of teasing. He'd done too much of that of late.

Her fingers dove into his hair, and a moan poured from his throat, rumbling against her pretty skin.

"Is that what you want? Do you wish to be a good girl for me?" She released a varied stream of yeses and pleas for him to do as he wished with her, and he acceded to her request with a kiss, quelling any doubt she may have had that he would do this for her. He would do anything for her, even unto the destruction of Middle Earth. "Do you wish to be mine?"

"Yes!" Her answer was akin to a desperate sob, and he wasted no time, immediately indulging her.

Tugging his cloak from his armor, Adar spread it over the grass. He would not have her dress covered in stains, nor grass blades stuck to her skin. The cloth created a sharp contrast - an onyx patch amidst a sea of pinks, purples, reds, and yellows - the dark to the meadow's light, just as she was the light to his darkness. She completed him, enthralled him, drove him mad, and tonight he would show her just how much.

She went for the ties fastening her dress, but he caught her hands in his and took over. She was a gift more precious than anything which the Valar could bestow upon their servants, and he would unwrap her accordingly.

As the laces binding the back of her dress fell away one at a time, Adar explored his lover's mouth with all the tenderness and gentleness that his cruel, twisted body could muster. He hadn't even realized that her tricky little fingers had begun to fiddle with his armor until his breastplate fell away.

In a flurry of discarded garments, they were each revealed to the other in all their beauty and all their flaws. Their shared vulnerability stilled their hands for an anxious moment, but only for a moment.

Adar's breath hitched in his chest when the soft lips he'd tasted mere seconds before connected with the scarred flesh over his heart. He'd expected pity, fear, regret - not reverence. Instead, as she looked up at him, he saw nothing but sincerity in her expression.

"You are gorgeous," she said, as though she could not tell that he had but one part of his body which was untouched by scars.

...As though she meant it. He realized with a sharp intake of breath that she did. She grasped his hands and they sank onto his cloak together, she on her back and he kneeling between her legs. His interest jutted toward her, but he could not find it within himself to be ashamed, not when he was with her. Not when a piece of his armor hung on a chain around her neck, resting comfortably above her breast.

"There is no beauty finer in this world than yours."

Spread nude before him over his cloak, Adar's lady looked up at him with an adoration he had not believed possible. Not when directed at an Uruk such as he. His lips met hers once more, but this time, he forced himself to be much more controlled. He wanted her, yes, but he also wanted her to know that she had his love.

Kissing his way steadily down her body, the Lord-Father of the Uruks had no doubt that he must look as hungry for her as he felt. Practically feral with pent-up desire, he needed her writhing on his tongue. His hands trembled with the effort it took to slow his movements, to take his time.

Abruptly, as his eyes met hers from between her legs, he realized that she very much had the capacity to destroy him. With a single declaration of hatred or a look of disgust, she could easily take his stone heart and pulverize it into powder.

How easily could she shred beyond repair what little remained of his soul!

Not even Morgoth had been able to do that. This mortal woman, this sweet, brave lady had no idea of the power that she possessed. The smart thing to do - the strategically wise path - would have been to kill her then and there while she lay vulnerable and trusting before him, begging for one more touch, one more kiss, one more moan, one more scrap of his attention.

Instead, he picked up his discarded gauntlet and slid her much smaller hand inside it. The clasps were quick work, and though she looked confused at first, once he lifted her thighs over his shoulders and guided her hand to his hair, understanding dawned in her eyes. She understood. He wanted her to feel powerful. She was his equal and she deserved to know it.

Even with sharp, unyielding metal covering her fingertips, they scraped so gently over his scalp as lost himself in the flood between her thighs. She moaned and whimpered, squirming in his hold, but through it all, she never once hurt him.

Adar knew that she wouldn't. Even as she cried out his name for all the world to hear, drenching his tongue and chin, her grip in his hair was careful. Her thighs tensed in his grasp, squeezing his head in an intoxicating vice. Groaning and snarling against her sensitive folds, he couldn't bring himself to pull away until she was shaking in the midst of over-sensitivity.

"Adar, please," she breathed as he moved up her body. Hunger raged and burned in his eyes - he could deny himself no longer. Grasping her wrists, he pinned them easily above her head as he claimed her lips. His tongue delved into the softness of her mouth, taking with it the lingering taste of her.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him close enough for his tip to catch on her entrance. With synchronized groans, he pressed inside of her, joining their bodies together as one.

Profane language not meant for the ears of such a creature as her spilled from his throat in a guttural stream of Black Speech. Dipping his head, Adar moaned against her breast and surged forward, drawing a sinful mewl from deep within her throat.

"You have me. You take me so well," he praised in a raspy whisper, nibbling at her earlobe as he thrust into her slowly. Gradually, she stripped him of his sense and control, tugging from within him a steady flow of praise and filth in Elvish and Black Speech - promises to treasure her for the rest of his days, to protect her, and to draw from her so many screams each night that all of Mordor would be unable to deny his claim over her.

When she managed to roll her hips beneath him to meet his thrusts, begging him to use her, to ruin her, what could he do but grant his lady's wish?

In a quick movement, he'd repositioned them both so that she was astride his hips. Pulling her arms behind her back and tugging slightly so that her chest was pushed toward him, Adar looked into her eyes.

"If you wish your lord to use you, then move those hips," he ordered. Leaning in, he brushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear and whispered a bit more gently to her. "Ride me, meleth. Show me that I have you."

She obeyed him instantly, finding a steady rhythm which, aided by his fingers toying with her clit, would have her tipping over the edge in mere moments. Indeed, her hips soon stuttered, and he gripped the back of her neck, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"Do not look away. Look at the pleasure I can give you," he commanded, and as she nodded frantically, beginning to fall apart, he felt his heart stutter in his chest. "Yes, look upon the Uruk who loves you."

At that she sobbed and collided firmly with her orgasm. She fluttered around his length, calling his name in lovelorn stutters and gasps.

Who needed Valinor when she was its very embodiment?

He released her wrists, and she threw her arms around his neck, claiming his lips with her own. His hands slid down her back, landing squarely on her hips. Holding her steady, Adar thrust up into her, making her yelp in surprise. He needed very little now; he was close.

"Where do you wish me?" Adar breathed against her lips, and he could feel the heat burning her cheeks.

"Inside," she answered hiding her face against his neck, and he moaned against her shoulder. Her name tore from him in an almost pained whine as he spilled within her. He clutched her to him so tightly that he'd undoubtedly left bruises in his wake, but he would kiss them all in apology when they'd caught their breath.

Neither seemed eager to release the other, so in their embraced they remained exploring one another with gentle fingers and loving lips until long after the moon had risen and stars had winked their way into the sky. When he dared to lean back far enough to look into her eyes, Adar was met with love bathed in glittering starlight.

He wondered if he'd hurt her, but the smile stretching her lips said otherwise. The armor piece that she'd made into a necklace still rested upon the smooth expanse of her chest - a perfect accompaniment to his gauntlet upon her arm.

The ride back to camp seemed too short by far, but their bedrolls - which would soon be joined into one - called out to them so sweetly. Adar was used to the bows and deference he received from his children, but he knew in his heart that his decision had been right when upon their return he heard the Uruks repeating a particular phrase as they passed.

His lover had heard part of it before, but now there were a few more words to it.

"What is that they keep saying?" She whispered the question to him, and he couldn't keep himself from smiling proudly. "It sounds familiar, but different."

"'Tis Black Speech. They are saying 'make way for the Lord and Lady of Mordor,'" he answered kissing her temple as they approached their home.

~*~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1 @horta-in-charge @gandalfthepimp

[winterhawkkisses]

Following the prompt ask, a ficlet where Bucky is accidentally turned into a dog, giving him the excuse to give Clint unrestrained affection that he normally wouldn't (because he's pining, oh, boy).

The first couple of times, Clint had snatched his hand back and immediately apologised, which had settled somewhere uncomfortable in Bucky's stomach. There had been some pretty undignified sulking in the giant dog bed that Tony had wasted no time in ordering in, followed by a conversation between Steve and Clint that had involved words like friendship and consent and c'mon, Barton, you've seen his damned teeth.

After that - it'd been kinda tentative at first, Clint getting his bearings, a look that wasn't entirely unlike awe on his face as Bucky muscled in close and let Clint sink his fingers into Bucky's thick fur. But once he was comfortable -

Clint was loose with him in a way he wasn't when Bucky was in his human body, and as much as that curdled when Bucky had time to think too long, it meant that they could play. He'd kinda forgotten what playing was like - no one played with the goddamn Winter Soldier, but this made Bucky wish Clint would. Sparkling grin, wide with delight, hurling himself at Bucky and grabbing him in holds just the right side of too tight. Wheezing out a cackle when Bucky only half-accidentally stomped on his balls. Bonelessly relaxing under Bucky's weight as Bucky sprawled out on top of him, nose stuffed into the crook of his neck where the smell was so sweet.

"I'm gonna miss this," Clint said softly, night before Thor had flat-out promised that Amora's 'curse' would wear off. He was sprawled out under Bucky, whose eyes were half closed with the pleasure of the pressure of Clint's strong fingers, right at the base of Bucky's ears. He cocked one, lifting his head a little, and Clint huffed out a laugh. "Don't give me that judgy look. It's not like we're friends."

The ball-stomp, this time, was absolutely fuckin' deliberate.

*

Clint was moping in his room when there was a scratch at his door, and it made his stomach flip and swan dive right into sad. He hauled himself off his bed and shuffled over, his eyes widening as he saw Bucky - human Bucky, arms folded and scowling and so fucking beautiful it hurt - standing outside his door.

"Wha-" he managed, before Bucky's knuckles dug uncomfortably into his sternum, pushing him uncompromisingly backwards. Clint could've probably resisted - give him a minute - but instead he went with it, letting Bucky shove him backwards until Clint was sprawled out on his bed.

He was honestly expecting a lecture. Taking advantage, maybe. Maintaining fucking boundaries like he shoulda been doing all along. Instead he took in a sharp breath as Bucky crawled onto his bed and sprawled on top of him, an incongruity of a pulse of fear at the proximity of Clint's jugular to his teeth.

"Idiot," Bucky growled into the crook of his neck. "Fuck you, we're 'not friends'."

Clint carefully lifted a hand and settled it on Bucky's head, callused fingers winding into unexpectedly soft hair. Didn't expect the wet heat of Bucky's tongue against his throat.

[Nonny, please read the Wolves of Timely series by @mariana-oconnor it so perfectly does what you wanted, loads better than this :D]

[onyxsboxes]

Monoceros

(Notes and inspirations at the end 😁) (Word count: 900)

---

Buck lets himself be enveloped by the scent of the forest, the bark biting into his back and the pin-leaf beneath him. It's cold, wisps of smoke escaping delicately from his mouth and nose into the dark. He's spent countless nights in the cold in the stalag, but here, with Bucky, it's not the same. No, because this time there's no barbed wire, only trees as far as the eye can see and the night shining brightly over their heads.

After several attempts, he finally finds a comfortable position where he can see Bucky sitting at his right side - just as when they were in flight school - and the stars shining through the canopy of the woods.

He'd only seen Bucky in passing a few times during the day and never had time to stop by too busy for that, but now he could take great advantage of his presence.

It's feel special: the both of them under the enormous Milky Way, as free as they've dreamed of being for months in the Winter's cold.

His eyes scan the stars above them. Here, Sirius from the Canis Major constellation, known as the brightest star in the sky. Canopus from the Carina being the second-brightest. Hydra and one of his star, Alphard, Antilia the air pump, Pyxis Nautica the mariner's compass... with careful fingers, he points them all out, taking care to indicate their positions precisely to Bucky. John, for his part, listens gently at his side, adding a few anectodes and questions from time to time, his voice clear in the night, while Buck prefers to whisper to him in a low voice, fully aware of where they are.

Buck feels good here, surrender by the night sky and Bucky's presence at his side, he feels better than he had been in months.

And … here. Yes, right there, just what he was looking for. He turns to Bucky a shy smile on his face.

“Do you see Sirius?” He waits for John's agreement before going on, “If you draw a line between it and the tallest tree in front of us, you'll find a constellation in the middle. There are three of them in the shape of a V.”

“Got it,” says John,

“It's called Monoceros.” and shyly, no higher than a whisper, Gale adds, “but I prefer to call it Bucky's constellation.”

Bucky shoots him a look, interrogation and curiosity clear on his face. Buck clears his throat, rubbing his neck with frozen fingers.

“Monoceros is also known as the constellation of the Unicorn.”

“The unicorn? As in my favorite extinct animal?” They say it at the same time, a soft laugh escaping their troats at the action.

“Yes. It makes me think of you every time” A gentle smile spreads across Buck's face at the thought. He feels safe here, even though he shouldn't. Bucky next to him and his eyes full of Monoceros make him relax, maybe that's why he added the next part.

“Actually, I think about you all the time.”

“I know,” and now Bucky wore a cocky grin, the same one he held before they flew to England.

“How?”

“Well I'm here, ain't I?” John stretches out his arms on either side of his body, almost brushing Buck's shoulders with his fingertips, his smile growing wider.

Before Buck can answer, Bucky presses for more facts about his constellation. He is dashing like this, resting against the dark bark, smiling brightly as he chews on his gum and aviator hanging from his shirt.

“An astronomer once said it was ‘one of the most beautiful sights in the heavens’ and I couldn't agree more,” he stares at the other man as he finishes his sentence, grateful Bucky's attention is still entirely on the sky and not back on him.

“I'd never heard of it. When was it discovered?”

"I think it was Petrus Plancius, a cartographer , who is the first to mentioned it in the 1600's".

At Bucky's expectant gaze, he continues talking, he goes on and on, lulling them with stories and facts about Monoceros and space. Several times, he wants to stop, not wanting to bore Bucky with this, so used to people shutting him up when he start talking about this subject, not interested. But each time, Bucky looks at him eyes shining and a gentle smile on his face, always asking for more anecdotes.

The sound of his stomach interrupts his story about the black holes' temperature.

“Tsss you need to eat doll”

“Well, we were a little busy with other things today”

“I know, but don't forget to eat, it's important.” And he can't say anything against it, not when Bucky looks at him with eyes full of concern and care, instead continues his story, hands moving to keep up with his words.

“Cleven.”

It's Georges' voice which stops him in their discussion, causing his gaze to fall on his questioning face and exhausted body. He hadn't seen him return from his scouting tour. He must have been very focused on their discussion not to notice.

“Who are you talking to, Major?”

Dread settles in his stomach. When Gale turns to his right, his blood turns to ice and his mouth tastes like ashes. Bucky isn't here; his spot empty of his warming laughter, and filled with the dark German trees.

When he turns back, there's no one there.

---

What should have been a little drable (100 words) about the Buckies watching Monoceros (brain rot about this constellation started in this post) turned into this because I started thinking about @skyyguy's amazing tags from this post at the same time.

What do you think?

[lowkeyrobin]

Could I request, what dating sparrow!ben hargreeves would be living a peaceful life possible after season 4 (let’s pretend like it never happened) preference or one shot (you decide)

Peaceful life- like the plans he said to Jennifer in the car, moving away, etcetera

P.s I loveeeeeee your tua and descendants writing keep up the amazing work 🫶🏻🫶🏻



aweee stop this is so cute 💔💔💔 ; also yes went for hc cause no way am I figuring out how to oneshot that shit ; also thank you 🫶🫶 I appreciate it lol ; also if there's supposed to be an anon emoji down there I can't see it 💀💀 it's just an [obj] box, prob cause I have an android and we don't have the same emojis as iphones n shit lmao ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; ps idk why I couldn't find that scene so I just kinda made some shit up lmfao

SPARROW! BEN ; runaways

summary ; your perfect life after running away with Ben except it doesn't end the world

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; no jail time for Ben / no s4 at all ig, reader isn't a brellie but refers to them as siblings + as kind of like an add on to them like lila

word count ; 363

masterlist

you and ben, after falling in love during the s3 era, decided you should just run away together

he'd taken a fond liking of you considering you were both so oddly peaceful when it came to just the two of you

the wedding at the end of the world really solidified it

and then you made out!

but after resetting the timeline and losing your powers, there was nothing to really stick around for

considering you wiped out all the marigold and sloane had disappeared (considering she would've never been born or was erased somehow) and your siblings had all gone off to live their lives, it was time you did too

you only knew Ben for like two weeks before you actually fell for each other so learning about one another was really fun

you packed up your bags (or what remained of them) and headed to wherever the back roads could take you

in the car you learned about each other's music taste and your hobbies, and all the sights you wanted to see around the world

the road took you to south carolina

you stayed on the beach for a week and it was honestly really nice

thank god you were able to steal thousands from sparrow-reggies secret stash lol

there you discovered Ben's hatred for water...

but after a week or so you packed up again and headed west

you drove around the country for about three years just sightseeing and living the most you could considering the two of you never really saw anything outside of home

but after a while, you had to settle down somewhere and make a proper life for yourselves

you both craved to be normal people, to pay bills and taxes and hold down jobs, maybe even make a family, as fucked as it was

I mean, trillionaires son moves to the middle of nowhere to live like a normal person? kinda crazy

you built a house on some old farmland on the outskirts of a little town, surrounded by forest and acres of empty land

you call around the family every once in a while, wanting to know how they're doing and what they're up to

ben couldn't really care tho, he only rlly cares for you, the others weirded him out

you couldn't blame him tho since he barely knew them and they knew a different version of him

when you're on the phone, head tilted as both hands are occupied by biscuit mix that you were mixing up, he stands by you with a soft smile on his face, helping you morph them into balls and put them on the tray

think a 90s type of house, very brown, window seats, etc

you live such a sweet ass life man

you sit on the front porch swing and drink coffee while you watch the sunrise

and in winter you cuddle up by the fireplace and watch shitty hallmark movies

you even started a YouTube channel for shits and giggles where you watch awful movies on cable TV and commentate over them because it's funny

you have a calico cat named sorbet

you have a strawberry garden in the backyard that surrounds the porch

and you go out to eat every friday

so many hugs from behind from the other when one is cooking

sweet kisses on the temple as well

so cavity causing sweet

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

10. Day off becomes show off

Note: hope you know how to fight

(Side note: i fcking love this gundam armoured aespa fr)

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the dorm as Y/n checked his phone. As usual, his mind was prepped for the day’s chaotic schedule, expecting back-to-back appointments, rehearsals, and meetings. But as he scrolled through the group’s calendar, something strange caught his eye.

No rehearsals. No interviews. No photoshoots.

A day off?

Y/n blinked. It had been ages since they’d had a full, unscheduled day since MAMA, and for a moment, he didn’t believe it. After double-checking to make sure he wasn’t missing anything, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

This was the perfect opportunity to give the girls a break—away from the stress and cameras.

Throwing on a hoodie, he knocked on each dorm room door, rousing the group from their sleep.

“Wake up, everyone! I’ve got something planned.”

Giselle was the first to emerge, hair sticking out in all directions, still wrapped in her blanket. She rubbed her eyes groggily. “Is it breakfast? Tell me you made pancakes…”

Y/n chuckled. “Not quite. But get ready. We’re going to the park. I made a lunch basket for us.”

The reaction from the rest of the members was similar—confused but intrigued. Winter poked her head out from her room, eyes half-closed. “A park? What are we, in a drama? And why is it sound romantic” She yawned loudly.

Karina followed suit, still looking half-asleep. “A park sounds… nice, I guess?”

“Hey, we can't just stay indoors when the sky is this nice.” Y/n grinned, clapping his hands together. “Now, let’s get moving.”

An hour later, the group found themselves standing at the entrance of a quaint city park. It wasn’t grand or flashy, just a small, peaceful spot nestled away from the usual bustling city life. A winding path led to a pond, ducks paddling lazily in the water, and a few bicycles stood nearby, available for rent.

“A park, really?” Winter raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “This was your big plan?”

Giselle stretched, taking in the scene. “I’m not complaining. It’s nice to have some quiet time.”

Y/n held up a tote bag filled with snacks. “Look, we’ve been running around nonstop for weeks. A relaxing day in the sun will do us all some good.”

Karina eyed him suspiciously. “What kind of snacks?”

Y/n smirked, pulling out bags of sandwiches. “The good kind.”

That seemed to do the trick. With renewed enthusiasm, the girls grabbed a few bikes from the rental stand, gearing up for a leisurely ride along the park’s paths. Y/n followed, feeling confident this would be a simple, peaceful day.

Well, until Ningning almost ran over a duck.

“Watch it!” Y/n called out as the youngest member veered off course, narrowly avoiding the waddling creature.

“I swear these bikes are taller than I remember!” Ningning complained, trying to steady herself. “Or maybe I’ve gotten shorter?”

Meanwhile, Karina wobbled dangerously as she tried to pedal forward, clearly struggling. “I think I forgot how to ride one of these things…”

Before Y/n could offer help, he was too busy dealing with his own issues. As soon as he pushed off, his bike’s front wheel jerked violently to the side, and he lost his balance, crashing into a nearby bush. The sound of his spectacular wipeout echoed through the park, causing an eruption of laughter from the girls.

“Nice strike, Y/n!” Giselle called out, barely able to contain her giggles. “You’re really setting a great example for us!”

Y/n groaned as he disentangled himself from the bush. “Okay, fine. Maybe I suck.”

It took a few minutes—and a lot more laughter—but eventually, they all managed to get moving smoothly. The group cycled leisurely along the park’s paths, the fresh air and rare freedom lifting their spirits. Despite the shaky start, the atmosphere was light and carefree.

At one point, Giselle and Winter challenged each other to a race, leaving the others trailing behind. Y/n, never one to back down, joined in—only to accidentally steer himself and Giselle straight into a patch of tall grass, much to the amusement of Karina and Ningning, who were practically in tears laughing.

“Maybe stick to managing, Y/n,” Karina teased as he pulled his bike free from the grass.

“So mean, Jimin” Y/n grumbled, but he couldn’t help grinning. “I’m just warming up.”

After a while, they parked their bikes near the duck pond and wandered over to feed the ducks. Y/n handed out snacks, though he wasn’t entirely sure feeding crackers to ducks was the right move.

Karina tossed a few pieces into the water, watching as the ducks swam around, fighting over the crumbs. “You’re supposed to give them bread, right?”

“I think we’re not supposed to give them anything, actually,” Y/n replied, scratching his head. “But... they seem happy enough.”

"Yea, they're the presences of their own kind." Winter joked. "Idiots…"

"I heard that, crybaby."

The group spent a good portion of time by the pond, laughing at the antics of the ducks. One particularly clumsy duck kept missing the food, prompting Ningning to point and say, “That one reminds me of Y/n.”

"See? I told you Ning." Winter chimed in, clearly amused by the comparison.

Y/n rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t stop smiling. For the first time in a while, it felt like they could just be themselves, without the constant pressure of schedules, rehearsals, or fans.

Well, except for one fan.

His eyes landed on a figure standing not too far away, partially hidden behind a tree. The person was wearing a hoodie, the hood pulled up over their face. It could’ve been anyone—a park visitor, maybe—but the way they lingered, half-concealed, raised alarm bells.

Y/n’s stomach tightened. He’d seen this kind of behaviour before. Sasaeng.

“Everything okay?” Karina asked, noticing his shift in demeanour.

Y/n kept his voice low, not wanting to alarm the rest of the group. “Don't wanna scare you, but there’s someone following us. Don’t look, he’s at 5 o’clock ”

Karina’s expression darkened. “Sasaeng?”

“Probably,” he confirmed, his eyes never leaving the figure.

Karina let out a frustrated sigh, clearly fed up with the constant intrusion on their privacy. “Can’t we just have one day? Just one?”

Y/n nodded grimly. “Unfortunately, no. But I’m going to check on him.”

Karina hesitated. “Be careful. Some sasaengs... they don’t exactly handle being confronted well.”

Y/n glanced over his shoulder, noticing that the figure had gotten closer. It was now or never. “Ehhh..I’ll be fine. Just stay here with the girls.”

As he approached the sasaeng, his heart raced, but he kept his voice calm and steady. “Hey, my guy, can I help you with something?”

The figure stiffened but didn’t move. Up close, Y/n could see they were holding a phone, angled just enough to capture footage of the group from a distance.

“I’m just a fan,” the person mumbled, their voice muffled under the hood. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

Y/n clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to escalate the situation, but he also couldn’t let this slide. “Hey hey hey, I understand you’re a fan, and that’s fine. But right now, the girls are trying to enjoy some time off. This is their personal space. Please respect that.”

The sasaeng’s eyes flashed with something Y/n couldn’t quite place—frustration? Defiance? Either way, they didn’t budge. “I’m not leaving. I just want to see them.”

Y/n’s patience was running thin. “I understand, but they just want a breather from the public for today. Please don’t make this a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

The tension hung thick in the air, and for a moment, Y/n wasn’t sure if the sasaeng was going to back down. But then, with a huff of annoyance, they turned and started walking away, though Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t done.

He returned to the girls, who had been watching the whole exchange from a distance. Karina must've told them.

“Did they leave?” Giselle asked quietly.

“For now,” Y/n replied, though his gut told him this wouldn’t be the last time they saw that particular fan.

Winter’s expression softened. “You handled that well, you know.”

Y/n shrugged, trying to play it off. “Part of the job.”

When the fun resumed, Ningning was busy trying to feed a particularly stubborn duck while Giselle and Karina lounged on the grass, seemingly forgetting tension that had just passed.

“You good?” Karina asked, her tone casual, though Y/n could tell she was watching him closely. "You've been tense since that happened."

“Yeah,” Y/n nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “Everything’s fine.”

But as the day went on, Y/n couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that they were being watched. Every now and then, he’d glance over his shoulder, half-expecting to see the sasaeng again.

It wasn’t until they were packing up to leave that he caught another glimpse—this time, from a different part of the park. The same hooded figure, lurking in the shadows, watching them.

Y/n’s stomach twisted. That guy hadn’t left.

As they piled into the van, he made a mental note to stay vigilant. Today had been fun, but he knew the peaceful days were always short-lived when it came to protecting the girls.

As the van pulled away, Karina, sitting next to him, gave him a sideways glance. “You think we’re safe?”

Y/n forced a smile. “We’re always safe... as long as I’m around.”

"Damn, Oppa is confident now." Ningning teased.

"That's how I blitz through things, Ning-ah."

But deep down, he knew things were getting more complicated. Being their manager was more than just keeping track of schedules and rehearsals. He had to protect them, even on their days off.

And something told him that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d face off with that sasaeng.

-

The fan meet was supposed to be the highlight of the week—one of those heartwarming moments where aespa could connect directly with their fans.

However, things were rarely so simple for Y/n.

The chaos of his daily life as the group’s manager had become his new normal, but today was different. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, a gnawing anxiety he couldn’t quite shake.

It wasn’t just the usual nerves, either. Ever since the incident at the park with the sasaeng, Y/n had been on high alert, his senses sharper than ever. Though the obsessive fan hadn’t made a direct reappearance, there were subtle signs—cryptic messages left on social media, strange accounts following aespa’s every move, and more importantly, a lingering presence. Y/n knew they hadn’t been forgotten.

It already has issued into SM, but Y/n was still definitely on high alert.

Still, today was about the fans. The usual logistics of organizing a fan meet were challenging enough, but this time, Y/n had to be even more vigilant. He’d personally gone through each gift from the fans, carefully making sure there were no suspicious items. Everything seemed to be in order, and the meet was progressing smoothly.

The girls were laughing, chatting with their fans, and signing albums while cameras flashed, capturing every moment. Y/n was supposed to be standing off to the side, handling minor hiccups as they came. But the real trouble began when the gifts started piling up backstage.

“Y/n, can you help me move these?” one of the staff members called out, struggling with a box of gifts that had been left near the entrance. Y/n nodded, quickly setting aside his tablet and running to help.

The problem? He hadn’t exactly been paying attention to where the gifts were being taken.

Somewhere between moving boxes and juggling event logistics, Y/n realised he had lost track of the pile of fan gifts meant to be distributed to aespa later. By the time the fan meet was in full swing, fans were asking about their gifts, only for Y/n to feel a rising sense of panic as he scanned the backstage area, the gifts nowhere in sight.

“Where are they?” he muttered to himself, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

Giselle, noticing his distress, sidled up to him with a teasing grin. “Lost something, Y/n?”

"…maybe?"

"Oh." Giselle replied nonchalantly. "Surely not the fan gift right?"

He sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “I may or may not have misplaced the gifts... all of them.”

Giselle let out a snort of laughter, causing Ningning, who was standing nearby, to join in. “Seriously? All of them? Haven't seen you messed up majorly for a while.”

Y/n groaned. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. But this is bad. The fans are going to freak out.”

Ningning shook her head, still giggling. “Don’t worry about it. Fans love sitcoms—it’s relatable. They’ll probably get a kick out of it. You know, seeing their gifts disappear into the void, never to return.”

Y/n managed a weak smile, appreciating their attempts to lighten the mood. “You’re probably right. Still... this is not my best image yet.”

The girls, seeing how genuinely stressed he was, huddled around him in support. “Don’t sweat it,” Karina said, giving him a reassuring nudge. “We’ve dealt with worse. Besides, the fans are here to see us, not obsess over some missing gifts.”

"Confident much?"

"Someone did say that's how he blitz through life." Karina mocked. "Now I thought about it, it was you, Y/n"

He appreciated their positivity, but the uneasy feeling in his chest refused to go away. The gifts were one thing, but his gut told him that something far more sinister was on the horizon.

As the fan meet began to wind down, Y/n made his rounds, keeping a watchful eye on the crowd. Most of the fans were energetic and cheerful, thrilled to be interacting with aespa, but he couldn’t help scanning for any suspicious faces.

That’s when he saw the guy.

Near the back of the room, hidden among a cluster of fans, was the same hooded figure from the park. His blood ran cold. It was the sasaeng, and they hadn’t come empty-handed.

"Guards on standby, we got a Code S." Y/n talked over the radio. "Please don’t cause a scene and find him."

Without causing a scene, Y/n subtly moved closer, positioning himself between the sasaeng and the girls. As he did, he noticed something glinting under the sleeve of the sasaeng’s hoodie—a knife.

His heart skipped a beat, and the world seemed to slow down. This is it.

Y/n had been trained for situations like this (he said trained, but he only had a taekwondo certificate a while ago), but nothing could truly prepare him for the moment it actually happened. He quickly scanned the area, assessing his options. Security wasn’t close enough to intervene immediately, and he didn’t want to alarm the fans or the group.

With a deep breath, Y/n locked eyes with the sasaeng. “Hey, you, nice seeing you again,” he called out, his voice steady but firm. “I need to talk to you.”

The sasaeng’s eyes darted to Y/n, and for a split second, Y/n saw it—the sheer obsession, the dangerous mix of admiration and delusion. The sasaeng clutched the knife tighter, their knuckles white.

"Ah fcking damn it…" Y/n muttered.

There was no time to wait for backup.

Y/n lunged forward, grabbing the sasaeng by the arm. The fan reacted immediately, swinging the knife wildly in his direction. He narrowly dodged the blade, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he wrestled the weapon from their grasp. The crowd hadn’t yet noticed the struggle, too focused on aespa.

The sasaeng fought back, landing a punch to Y/n’s side, but he didn’t let go. He managed to twist the fan’s arm behind their back, forcing the knife to clatter to the ground. Finally, security rushed in, pulling the sasaeng away and detaining them.

Panting, Y/n stood there, clutching his side, still trying to process what had just happened. The girls had noticed by now, their faces pale with shock. Ningning and Giselle were the first to rush over.

“Oppa! Are you okay?” Ningning asked, her eyes wide with concern.

Y/n nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah... yeah, still alive.”

The fan meet was quickly wrapped up after that, with security escorting the sasaeng out and the remaining fans ushered toward the exits. The event had been going so well until that moment, and the sudden chaos left everyone rattled.

Later, in the safety of their van, the girls were silent, the weight of what had happened hanging in the air. Winter was whimpering after her intense bawling from worrying about her childhood friend. Y/n could just only chuckle at his adorable best friend.

“You saved us,” Karina finally said, her voice quiet but full of gratitude. “That could’ve been so much worse if you hadn’t been there.”

Y/n shook his head, still processing everything. “I was just doing my job.”

But the gravity of what he’d done wasn’t lost on anyone, least of all him.

-

The next day, Y/n rolled out of bed with a groan. His body still ached from the scuffle with the sasaeng, and while he wasn’t one to complain, the dull throb in his side was a constant reminder of yesterday’s chaos. He stretched, wincing slightly, before getting ready for the day.

Today was supposed to be business as usual—another trip to the SM building for rehearsals and meetings—but nothing about this day felt normal. After all, it wasn’t every day that you made headlines for tackling an obsessed fan. And while Y/n wasn’t exactly thrilled about the attention, he knew it was inevitable. He’d been in the industry long enough to know how fast news spread, especially when it involved something as dramatic as a knife-wielding sasaeng.

When he met up with the girls during breakfast in the living area, they were already buzzing with energy. Kind of wild that they moved on from the incident that quickly.

Ningning grinned at him, clearly enjoying the spotlight this incident had brought to their usually quiet manager.

“Ready for your big day, supernova?” she teased, nudging him as they walked toward the van.

Y/n shot her a look, shaking his head. “Please, no, Ning. Can we not make a big deal out of this?”

“Too late,” Giselle piped up from behind, her voice full of amusement. “The whole building’s probably talking about you right now. Yunjin and Somi is gushing in the gc at the moment.”

As much as Y/n wanted to protest, he knew she was right. Ever since the news broke, he’d been flooded with messages—both from fans and people in the industry. It was surreal, really. He’d never expected to be at the centre of attention, especially not for something like this.

When they arrived at the SM building, the atmosphere was different. Usually, the bustling halls were full of staff going about their daily business, but today, there was an undeniable buzz in the air.

As soon as they stepped inside, heads turned. The receptionist, who usually gave them a polite nod, smiled broadly at Y/n, her eyes twinkling with admiration. “Good morning, hero,” she greeted him, her tone playful.

Y/n blushed, ducking his head awkwardly. “Morning…"

The teasing only got worse as they moved through the building. Other managers, particularly Minji and Joon, came up to him, clapping him on the back and offering words of congratulations.

“Hey, Y/n! Saw the news—man, that was some serious balls. How are you feeling?”Joon asked, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Y/n mumbled, trying to downplay it. “Just... doing my job.”

“Doing your job?” Minji laughed. “You tackled a guy with a knife! I’d say that’s a bit more than your typical day’s work.”

Before Y/n could respond, a familiar voice called out from behind him. “There he is—the man, the myth, the legend!”

Y/n turned to see Taeyong and Mark from NCT walking toward him, grinning from ear to ear. Taeyong immediately pulled him into a friendly hug, his eyes twinkling with pride. “We saw what happened, Y/n. That was insane. Are you sure you’re not secretly an action movie star or something?”

Mark nodded enthusiastically, his smile wide. “Dude, you’re like the coolest manager now. Everyone’s talking about how you saved the day.”

Y/n’s face flushed with embarrassment. “I secretly invested my stats in strength.”

But the teasing didn’t stop there. As they made their way up to the practice rooms, other idols—some Y/n had trained with back in the day—came up to him with wide grins and playful jabs. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

The final straw came when they passed by one of the SM rookies who was clearly too shy to approach him directly. The young trainee whispered to their friend, their eyes wide with awe as they looked at Y/n. “Is that him? The manager who stopped the sasaeng? He looks so cool...”

Y/n sighed, shaking his head as the girls stifled their laughter. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, but there was no escaping it. He had become the talk of the building, whether he liked it or not.

By the time they reached the practice room, Y/n was ready to crawl into a hole and hide. But the girls, ever perceptive, noticed how uncomfortable he was and rallied around him.

“Look,” Karina said, giving him a rare smile, “you might hate the attention, but we’re really grateful for what you did. That was seriously brave.”

“Yeah,” Winter added, her voice soft but sincere. “You're maybe an idiot, but you were genuinely cool back there.”

Ningning, of course, couldn’t resist adding her own playful twist. “Plus, now you’re famous! Maybe you’ll get your own fanbase.”

Y/n groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Please, no fanbase. That’s the last thing I need.”

But despite his protests, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. The girls’ words meant more to him than any praise from strangers. They were the ones he had sworn to protect, after all.

As they settled into their rehearsal, Y/n leaned back against the wall, watching the group with a small smile. The chaos of the past few days had been overwhelming, but it had also solidified his place in their lives. He wasn’t just their manager anymore—he was part of their family.

Just as he thought things had finally calmed down, the door to the practice room burst open, and Seulgi from Red Velvet, his bias, poked her head in. “Ya, Y/n! Heard you’re the building’s new hero! When’s the movie adaptation coming out?”

"Seulgi-noona, not you too…"

The girls burst into laughter as Y/n groaned again, knowing he’d never live this down.

But deep down, he didn’t mind. He faced down a knife-wielding sasaeng, after all. He could handle a bit of teasing.

[c-kiddo]

What do you think caduceus would be up to in these festive times?

im not sure, since exandria has different holidays i dont rly remember details about, but also the clays are separate from the empire/coast/xhorhas etc anyway .. i think the clays would probably celebrate the solstices and equinoxes though. probably some harvesting celebrations and then the rest of worship is very constant, like prayers and offerings and gardening as worship of course too. winter solstice probably involves lots of warm tea (think something like chai, nice spices all simmered together for hours and all day in a big pot, keeping the temple warm and everyones insides warm too) and maybe some braiding and special altar. candles outside in the snow (if it lands in the grove, im not sure, since its kept warmer than outside it), lots of candles and lanterns in general. big fire in the stove/fireplace, big big pot of soups and plates of food to share. specific herbs and branches thrown into the fire for nice sounds and smells. songs maybe. maybe theyre hibernating a little bit. but also fun small idea i like is that they do a v scandinavian thing of getting in hot springs and then lying in the snow naked and then getting in hot springs . very refreshing for saying goodbye to the darkest point of the year lol

[sentientstump]

thinkingg

about things

in the alt text with some notes

[luck-of-the-drawings]

IMAGINE. working at ur stupid uhhh job or whatever. pulling into your drive way and ready to work on some crazy project in your garage. opening the door to the most unfamiliar silence. did your wife and kid leave for something? could you imagine knocking on your kids door, hardly getting an answer, and opening it to find the splattered remains of your wife across his room your child is scared! hes hardly consolable, in a state of shock and terror. you are too, but youre the adult here. you need to take charge. you need to protect him. you need to do something. you need to do something.

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

Jon becoming KiTN in Winds (specifically) would actually be bad as far as themes go

[eepybogboy]

did a round of eye swaps this weekend! it's the most ive done all at once, and i gotta say, i do not recommend it. by the time i got new eyes in these four, my hands were begging me to stop, so poor Priscilla sat eyeless for a while. but I'm really happy with the results!

let me walk you through the process a bit.

i used this guide to help decide which eyes i wanted to use.

this all started because i wanted Daria's eyes for Zooey.

Daria's eyes don't match her color scheme at all, and this has always bothered me about her. they stand out too much, and its jarring. but that minty blue and pale pink are Zooey's colors exactly, it would complete her alien vibe perfectly.

but, unfortunately, Zooey and Daria have different eye chips. Daria has the Twins eye chip, which has four pegs to keep it in place in the socket, and Zooey has the newer B2 chip, which has only two prongs. i was worried that Daria's eyes wouldnt fit in Zooey's head, so i prepared a backup donor: Simone.

Simone has the CNY eye chip, first introduced in Lily Cheng, the Special Edition doll for the Chinese New Year in 2022. this eye mold is more similar to the B2 eyes since it also has only two prongs, so if Daria's eyes didnt sit right in Zooey, these might be a better fit. the colors arent as perfect, but it could work.

except that Darias eyes fit Zooey perfectly. she looks so cute! now her eyebrows are even more out of place, but I'll get to that later.

i had already taken out Simone's eyes to compare the two, so she was given Zooey's eyes.

i was blown away by how incredible she looks! so soft and sweet. i was fond of her before, but she's crawled up into my top ten faves with this one alteration.

now, i was going to give those eyes to Daria, but they obviously belong to Simone now. Daria still needs brown eyes though, so i brought out a more fitting donor for her: Priscilla. she has the same color eyes as Zooey, but in the Twins eye chip.

perfect for ms. Daria, much more natural. it's just what she needed.

now, i wasn't intending to bring Minnie into this, but her eyes are a bit unusually dark, and i had Simone's eyes sitting there.. and well. i already had the hair dryer out.

honestly? a serve. she has B2 eyes originally, like Zooey, so the lashes are Just under her eyelid but they still fit her sculpt pretty well.

at this point, my hands were aching, and i had worn a blister into my thumb, so i had to take a break. Pris was going into the stock box anyway, so there was no pressure to finish her, but the next day i came back and gave her Minnie's eyes for safekeeping.

she looks a little sleepy, but overall pretty cute. she probably won't stay this way because she's going into the potential custom pile, but its fine for now.

look at these four and how perfect they are!! Zooey and Daria came out exactly how i planned, but i am still so shook by how beautiful Simone is now. i just cant stop looking at her.

I'll be reblogging to add more photos, including side by side comparisons to the stock photos since tungle will only let me post 10 pictures at a time

[moe-broey]

Sorry I'm gonna thrup. I feel violently ill. Something sinister is overtaking me. LIKE oh boy I've been away for too long I gotta ref some source material to perfectly capture the Cunty Alfonse. Where he's just a Cunt. Extremely cherished trait of his, by me. So I'm sifting through my Alfonse folder looking for screenshots and in my head, I'm thinking yeah it's gotta be the Alear FBs. But I'm just gonna make sure. Okay. I make sure. And

GOOOODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM!!!!!!!!!!!‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

You've known her for LIKE TWO DAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!?!?? WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEMMMMM WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS YOU'RE MAKING ME SO ILL. SICK. IN THE HEAD‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

You have NO idea what this dialogue does to me man I am just. Every time I fucking read it, it guts me and strikes me in the heart and it's like. Okay. You're INSANE. INSANE fucking thing to say to someone you've only known for a few days. MAYBE A WEEK. AT MOST. When I think about it, this happened fresh off the coat-tails of Book 6 I think, probably after losing Bruno. So like. That's the logical explanation, especially common to regress back to old habits/ways of thinking/ESP ways of protecting yourself when you just went through something Like That.

BUT LIKE. Context is important yes, informs the feelings/decisions here, but I wanna. Talk about how this line just Fucks with me SO badly. It invokes SUCH. SUUUUUCH a VISCERAL response in me and I just. "I could lose my will to fight" YOU'RE INSANE!!!!!!!!!! IT'S FINE!!!!!!!!!! IT'S LITERALLY FIIIINEEEEE you've known her for LIKE A WEEK it's literally fiiiiine and like, even if it was longer even if she was a really good friend and you were super close It's FINE. People come abd go all the fucking time man IT'S LITERALLY FIIIIINNNNEEEEEEEEEEE

Alfonse fucking SUCKS actually because sometimes he drops a line like this and I feel physically unwell about it. He just fucking Says Things you would have to waterboard out of me and you probably reasonably very quickly Could but you WOULD. AT LEAST. HAVE TO WATERBOARD ME FIRST. COME ON MAN get it TOGETHER ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

There's like. No greater point to this post no analysis no character study Nothing. I jusy need to kill him. Badly